in this winter room
i think i finally understand
the language of loneliness
like being wrapped
in a strange mother's womb
born to an unknown land
estranged.
as i part the curtains
so moist from morning dew
heavy with yesterday's sorrows;
and pregnant with tomorrow's
i cry like a baby
(i am)
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the lines on your palm
are traces of the life
you'd led.
the life i wished i had
(but did not)
tell me,
how you dance through
the light
that filters through
motes of dust and alights,
so gently on you.
my precious butterfly.
your fingers so
soft like
( )
fluttering wings against
my cool skin.
may i dance
with your fading shadow?
me, living breathing flesh,
and you -
lifeless silhouette;
yet so warm to my heart.
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2 comments:
I really like that last stanza. You have a very nice feel for rhythm.
Why thank you.
If you allow me to say so, you have extremely good poetic skills. I love your expressiveness. It's really quite wonderful.
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