For an untold truth, he saw it in her.
Lies that spoke, she never doubted him.
Some words hurt, these became speechless.
Where it couldn’t, truth and lies mattered least.
He grabbed her hand, pulled her close.
She held her head down, felt him breathe.
It was his mouth near her ear, her lips on him.
“I choose you when you chose yourself, in me.”
A graceful shadow which he sees in daylight.
A melody of hope which she says always find her.
Somewhere in-between this song and sight,
lies a chamber of secrets which they calls Love.
Tried something new here. Color scheme is kinda sloppy. I am including the texts of the poem.
You art pieces of the crimson sky,
The sunset whence my world never sleeps.
What for love, tis not meant you!
Live on an empty canvas till morrow escapes dearth,
For you behold colors, purely infinite beauty.
Mine life complete without gold ring or silk,
When sleep found your shoulders, and
Hands beheld your fingers even in satire need.
Death a game on cross-board, for I not fear,
Mine soul not regret, life draped with your memories.
Thoughts fly away in windows for it gather only yours,
Where mine eyes peep to tales drowned in thou smile.
Forth mine mortal body speaks humanity in many lies,
Forth what it not speaks a truth, for it’ll find you in immortality.
The following poem is inspired by a line written by Karen Hayward, and I was prompted to write the poem.
She was close, very close
Closer than his own sleep
The golden sunshine that spilled,
emerged from his tethered soul
Those tears that always found a smile,
Now is closer to him than her.
This tender line of illuminated darkness,
weaves the wreckage inside him.
He still wears her love inside,
And she found her love tell a long story.
Few inks that he left for her,
bloated on his cry and her fear.
She lost the nights she dreamt in,
and he founds these nights,
Without her dreams and his symphony.
What he lost never found a home,
The home closer than his tears.