In the trance of almost believing hands shake against a silhouette and every breath begs the birth of a fresh fantasy, so you may form her of stars and find yourself comfort with each day, a new death upon her.
So you watch eyes perched upon the night waiting as the fresh ache of air washes through your shy steps and your quiet pleading judgment, your smile swollen with miles to measure her by and your reach open to capture her.
But then the night forgets itself and she fades within the waking light as new color leaves her lifeless, a delusion shared only by the stars wandering alone, awake but fading as well.
i was just about to pull that becuase after reading it again i realized it was not this mystery girl. however, i have to say, alexis that pretty much pinned me dead on. it was a fantastic poem by the way. :)
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its good to be hard on yourself...realazation of imperfection is important...but let it end at just that.
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hands shake against a silhouette
and every breath begs
the birth of a fresh fantasy,
so you may form her of stars
and find yourself comfort
with each day, a new death upon her.
So you watch
eyes perched upon the night
waiting
as the fresh ache of air
washes through your shy steps
and your quiet pleading judgment,
your smile swollen
with miles to measure her by
and your reach open to capture her.
But then the night forgets itself
and she fades within the waking light
as new color leaves her lifeless,
a delusion
shared only by the stars
wandering alone, awake
but fading as well.
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- Alexis
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