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A poem is never finished, only abandoned.  ~Paul Valéry
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.  ~Carl Sandburg
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.  ~Thomas Gray
Poetry is not always words.  ~Audrey Foris
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.  ~Edgar Allan Poe

 

Fear In My Skin
2006-01-13 - 9:23 p.m.
______________________________

What words do I offer you?
What moments come silent in the dark?
To strengthen our bond
To kindle our passion, to demand that spark?

Would it burn us in our bed, ashes spread across the sheets?
Would it keep us fed, the burning hunger than threatens with heat?
Would it flash like lightning, and burn the gates of Heaven?
Then be gone in the light, the morning glow to bathe in?


What could my skin be for you, so tainted and impure?
My hopes and dreams hidden so deep, no longer a sweet allure
What could my eyes say to you, so jaded and faded from all?
If opened before your heart, bared naked to the fall?


What heart could warm you in the night of old?
What moment gleams so clear to your soul?
Would my trembling hands be enough to hold you near?
Would my deaf ears be enough to tell truth from fear?


What love do I offer you, mouth held against the pain
What words do I give to you, to shelter you from the rain?
What special memories will linger on, after the time has gone?
What heartbeat will you carry in your soul, when both are left alone?


Breathe deep, my love, into your aching lungs
And whisper words of hope onto lips bruised and stung
Carry me within your heart, so close to the ache inside
Dream of me in the dark, when you so dearly long to hide.

raw || truth
______________________________
Past Memories:

2006-01-13 - Fear In My Skin
2006-01-10 - The Moon - Our Silent Audience
2005-12-14 - Promise
2005-12-11 - Pure Bliss
2005-08-31 - In This Grave