Helpless: A Kradam Poem (PG) (sequel to Endless)
a poem, rated pg, maybe.
if you don't like unhappy endings, i'm sorry. :(
is sequel the right word for poetry?
part 1: Endless (PG-13)
part 3: Heartless (PG)
(Kris' POV now)
comments and critiques are completely welcome. :)
[since this was originally posted i've changed a few things]
Helpless
He’s captivating.
There’s no other word to describe the way he gives happiness to others as if he was its keeper.
You stare at him when he’s sleeping and listening to music: the soundtrack to his dreams,
And you could swear you see his pupils dancing under the curtain of his eyelids.
Passion shines in his eyes even when they’re shut.
You can’t look away.
He’s exotic.
Even with all the places you’ve been, there’s nothing more exciting to you
Than the thought of traveling into his soul.
He talks about his life, and you feel like you are there with him
As he trudges through the bad memories and dives into the good ones.
You are caught in the net of his arms, and he is tugging you in.
He’s distracting.
You try to practice the guitar, but he’s there. You try to think of her,
But you end up thinking of him. The distraction becomes too much.
You tell yourself to seize the day-that’s what he does, after all.
You don’t know why you’re touching him, full of desire. But you don’t stop, and he doesn’t tell you to.
You cry afterwards. It’s like you’re shedding the layer of the person you used to be.
He’s forbidden.
You find comfort in your guitar. It helps you find answers.
But today, when you ask it why you did that, it doesn’t reply. You feel lost,
But also found, discovered. He’s there in the doorway, like a modern guardian angel and
Wearing a wondering expression. You smile, but you don’t say anything.
You know he’s an unattainable daydream.
if you don't like unhappy endings, i'm sorry. :(
is sequel the right word for poetry?
part 1: Endless (PG-13)
part 3: Heartless (PG)
(Kris' POV now)
comments and critiques are completely welcome. :)
[since this was originally posted i've changed a few things]
Helpless
He’s captivating.
There’s no other word to describe the way he gives happiness to others as if he was its keeper.
You stare at him when he’s sleeping and listening to music: the soundtrack to his dreams,
And you could swear you see his pupils dancing under the curtain of his eyelids.
Passion shines in his eyes even when they’re shut.
You can’t look away.
He’s exotic.
Even with all the places you’ve been, there’s nothing more exciting to you
Than the thought of traveling into his soul.
He talks about his life, and you feel like you are there with him
As he trudges through the bad memories and dives into the good ones.
You are caught in the net of his arms, and he is tugging you in.
He’s distracting.
You try to practice the guitar, but he’s there. You try to think of her,
But you end up thinking of him. The distraction becomes too much.
You tell yourself to seize the day-that’s what he does, after all.
You don’t know why you’re touching him, full of desire. But you don’t stop, and he doesn’t tell you to.
You cry afterwards. It’s like you’re shedding the layer of the person you used to be.
He’s forbidden.
You find comfort in your guitar. It helps you find answers.
But today, when you ask it why you did that, it doesn’t reply. You feel lost,
But also found, discovered. He’s there in the doorway, like a modern guardian angel and
Wearing a wondering expression. You smile, but you don’t say anything.
You know he’s an unattainable daydream.