08-08-2014, 04:52 PM
*I enjoyed writing this today and hope you enjoy reading it. All criticism is welcome.
Edit #3: Unsaid
Smokeless nights without your head on my chest
unravel inside a black hole where I am dismantled by retrospect.
The cold side of a stripped pillow brings a moment of relief,
two robins converse in a nearby treetop while the hours derail.
Everything sensory is real by default;
my thoughts reflect remnants of vast kingdoms that never were.
A war is waging, pervading the nothingness,
calling on both angels and demons to collide in the tidy limbo;
the silk sky punctured by diamonds, jalousie blinds sliced by light,
magnified sounds of other tenants moving beyond thin walls.
I could sprawl out on layers of slothful cirrus clouds
and compare you to the moon for a living.
It’s a cruel trick when the sun rises to halt my binge, my tired hands
exploring new ways to reword ” I need you “ while a lamp post clicks off.
Edit #2: Unsaid
These smokeless nights without your head on my chest
unravel inside a black hole where I am pulled apart by retrospect.
The cold side of a naked pillow trembles when touched,
coupled robins converse in nearby treetops while the hours derail.
Everything sensory is real by default;
my thoughts reflect remnants of gilded kingdoms that never were.
A war is being waged, pervading the nothingness,
bringing both angels and demons to collide in the tidy limbo;
the pure sky punctured by diamonds, jalousie blinds sliced by light,
magnified sounds of life heard through thin walls.
I could sprawl out on layers of slothful cirrus clouds
and compare you to the moon for a living.
It’s a cruel trick when the sun rises to halt my binge, my tired hands
exploring new ways to reword ” I need you “ while a lamp post forgets itself.
Edit #3: Unsaid
Smokeless nights without your head on my chest
unravel inside a black hole where I am dismantled by retrospect.
The cold side of a stripped pillow brings a moment of relief,
two robins converse in a nearby treetop while the hours derail.
Everything sensory is real by default;
my thoughts reflect remnants of vast kingdoms that never were.
A war is waging, pervading the nothingness,
calling on both angels and demons to collide in the tidy limbo;
the silk sky punctured by diamonds, jalousie blinds sliced by light,
magnified sounds of other tenants moving beyond thin walls.
I could sprawl out on layers of slothful cirrus clouds
and compare you to the moon for a living.
It’s a cruel trick when the sun rises to halt my binge, my tired hands
exploring new ways to reword ” I need you “ while a lamp post clicks off.
Edit #2: Unsaid
These smokeless nights without your head on my chest
unravel inside a black hole where I am pulled apart by retrospect.
The cold side of a naked pillow trembles when touched,
coupled robins converse in nearby treetops while the hours derail.
Everything sensory is real by default;
my thoughts reflect remnants of gilded kingdoms that never were.
A war is being waged, pervading the nothingness,
bringing both angels and demons to collide in the tidy limbo;
the pure sky punctured by diamonds, jalousie blinds sliced by light,
magnified sounds of life heard through thin walls.
I could sprawl out on layers of slothful cirrus clouds
and compare you to the moon for a living.
It’s a cruel trick when the sun rises to halt my binge, my tired hands
exploring new ways to reword ” I need you “ while a lamp post forgets itself.