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Blind



I hear you,
your song is loud,
loud like the thunder against the windows.

But my tears aren't rose-scented
yet -
and the ocean swallows me whole,
your hand is there,
but I can't see -

my eyes sting.
I'm reaching.
Reaching.
my eyes are still stinging.

I am so blind.

Help.
Help.
Help.

You never lost me,
but I don't feel found.

I don't feel found.

Make me feel un-lost,
and show yourself
and everything you're made of.

just touch my cheek
as you pass me,
and I would know.

I would know




that you love me.

say what you will.

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Comments

  • OurxBeginning
    September 11

    Edit | Reply
    I think this is amazing. Very poigant. :] The depth is just wonderful, really. Another wonderful piece from you. Well done and thanks for sharing.


  • Blkwidow77 silver member
    September 10

    Edit | Reply
    hmmm...

    I think your poetry is going through changes. I wonder what it will look like in two years? I still miss the style you wrote in when we first met, but I guess you were in a different place mentally then. You seemed happier and more confident. That had been my impression anyhow.

    This particular poem doesn't have that driving passion I usually pick up in your work. It seems lax and kind of sad. Like you've been tired for a very long time. That's the impression I get from this.


    • feltfountain
      September 10
      Edit | Reply
      i was tired when i wrote it. and i am still tired today. your impression was correct. and yes, i was probably happier when we first met, even with napoleon terrorizing my heart. i hope it is just a phase. i can't imagine this exhaustion for the rest of my life.