05-15-2014, 03:44 PM
Edit 2 mostly billy
.
What is the point of love if not to shine upon the loved?
Heads no longer turn with wide-eyed glance, flush with the glow
of hearts on fire and blood the fuel; no quickening breath,
no trilling pulse. It is too late to start again, to make new flames
with sticks of green. Bright days that mellow young, plump fruit
are not for me, now I am in my vintage years and should be drunk.
Damned noble rot still sweetens up what ought not tempt me now
and so I close these eyes that secretly caress. No touch of mine
will safely find that softness once again. With purpose dead,
all that remains is risqué flattery and hope; but no, not even that...
for such is not the love that shines. Another hides behind the sham,
that dare not speak and must not speak: this the greatest loss of all.
When days with names we can’t recall begin to count each night away,
we best forget not just the days, but what love meant…
when last it shone our way.
Edit 1
What is the point of love if not to shine upon the loved;
no heads turn now or open eyed, with quickened breath
and trilling pulse, flush with the glow of hearts on fire
and blood the fuel? It is too late to start again, to make new flames
with sticks of green; long years that mellow bright, crisp fruit
are not for me, now I am in my vintage time and should be drunk.
Damned noble rot still sweetens up what ought not tempt me;
though my eyes can still caress, no touch of mine will safely find
that softness once again. With purpose dead, all that is left
is risqué flattery and hope, but no not even that...
for such is not the love that shines. Another hides behind
dimmed eyes, that dare not speak and must not speak;
This is the greatest loss of all, when days with names we can’t recall
begin to count each night away, we best forget not just the days,
but what love ever meant…when last it shone our way.
Tectak
2014
original
What is the point of love if not to shine upon the loved;
no heads turn now or open eyed, with quickened breath
and trilling pulse, flush with the glow of hearts on fire and blood the fuel?
It is too late to start again, to make new flames with sticks of green;
long years which mellow bright, crisp fruit are not for me, now I am in my vintage time .
Damned noble rot can sweeten up what ought not tempt me; though my eyes
can still caress, no touch of mine will safely find that softness once again.
With purpose dead, all that is left is risqué flattery and hope, but no
not even that…for such is not the love that shines. Another hides
behind the watery eyes, and dare not speak and must not speak;
This is the greatest loss of all, when days with names we can’t recall
begin to count each night away, we best forget not just the days,
but what love ever meant…when last it shone our way.
Tectak
2014
.
What is the point of love if not to shine upon the loved?
Heads no longer turn with wide-eyed glance, flush with the glow
of hearts on fire and blood the fuel; no quickening breath,
no trilling pulse. It is too late to start again, to make new flames
with sticks of green. Bright days that mellow young, plump fruit
are not for me, now I am in my vintage years and should be drunk.
Damned noble rot still sweetens up what ought not tempt me now
and so I close these eyes that secretly caress. No touch of mine
will safely find that softness once again. With purpose dead,
all that remains is risqué flattery and hope; but no, not even that...
for such is not the love that shines. Another hides behind the sham,
that dare not speak and must not speak: this the greatest loss of all.
When days with names we can’t recall begin to count each night away,
we best forget not just the days, but what love meant…
when last it shone our way.
Edit 1
What is the point of love if not to shine upon the loved;
no heads turn now or open eyed, with quickened breath
and trilling pulse, flush with the glow of hearts on fire
and blood the fuel? It is too late to start again, to make new flames
with sticks of green; long years that mellow bright, crisp fruit
are not for me, now I am in my vintage time and should be drunk.
Damned noble rot still sweetens up what ought not tempt me;
though my eyes can still caress, no touch of mine will safely find
that softness once again. With purpose dead, all that is left
is risqué flattery and hope, but no not even that...
for such is not the love that shines. Another hides behind
dimmed eyes, that dare not speak and must not speak;
This is the greatest loss of all, when days with names we can’t recall
begin to count each night away, we best forget not just the days,
but what love ever meant…when last it shone our way.
Tectak
2014
original
What is the point of love if not to shine upon the loved;
no heads turn now or open eyed, with quickened breath
and trilling pulse, flush with the glow of hearts on fire and blood the fuel?
It is too late to start again, to make new flames with sticks of green;
long years which mellow bright, crisp fruit are not for me, now I am in my vintage time .
Damned noble rot can sweeten up what ought not tempt me; though my eyes
can still caress, no touch of mine will safely find that softness once again.
With purpose dead, all that is left is risqué flattery and hope, but no
not even that…for such is not the love that shines. Another hides
behind the watery eyes, and dare not speak and must not speak;
This is the greatest loss of all, when days with names we can’t recall
begin to count each night away, we best forget not just the days,
but what love ever meant…when last it shone our way.
Tectak
2014