For Mike

Let your finger tips whisper across my cheek.
Listen to the words your eyes scream.
I'm focusing on trying to hear them.
But I can't.
I don't know what the songs you sing in the silence of our hugs are suppose to mean.
I don't even know their genre.
My finger tips stained with graphite of pencil lead.
Where words of passion lay between lines.
Wrapped in ribbons and bows, what does the word love mean?
I lost the meaning.
But now I don't want it.
Because whatever this is, this is what I want.
That can give my heart a smile, and butterflies turn to buzzing bees in a field within my gut.
Make my hand stutter in their words, face tint with the color that rushes through my veins.
Voice high as the angels, cracking like the concrete we walk.
I don't want a new definition of love.
I want a new word.
Because if love is what I once had in forms of clovers.
Then I don't want this to be it.
I don't want to even compare them.
Something so sweet.
Even if only for a moment.
Fleeting as it may be.
I don't want the past to move down.
That wagon should not move.
It should be kept in the ages of sand, no longer to move.
Not even worth a glance.
This is now.
And whatever this is; that's what it will be.
All I know is I don't want another tragedy.
I want my happy ending.

Comments

jwiener

In this poem, my favorite lines are"My finger tips stained with / graphite of pencil lead" because not only does this create lovely imagery, it also speaks to what we as writers go through, having pencil lead and pen ink stained on our hands, as proof of our work.

Tieeeesh

Simply amazing<33

PreciousTheBrave

Beautiful. That's all I could think of, beautiful and passionate. Really enjoyed it :)

Synocide

Not many people can pull off love poems without sounding cheesy. I Thought this was beautifully done and well deserved of a 3 star rating. Great work. 

Erolas96_blue

Favorite part is the beginning "Let your finger tips whisper across my cheek. Listen to the words your eyes scream. I'm focusing on trying to hear them. But I can't." and this part, "My finger tips stained with graphite of pencil lead."....great poetry, great poet, liked the passion.

MissKellyWilliams

Woah! This poem is awesome!

alymie

The ending comes with so much work.   Work only for the desires that bring you true hapiness.

Sonja Hand

made me smile, I see children, that grow up as friends and one wants more in time... I see shy glances in the playground... you can broaden this, deepen this and make more texture.

I love it for its rawness... thanks.

RachelNygma17

I adore this <3