O, your honeyest words glide.
Long has your vase-like stature
Graced the vibe of my lion's pride.
Amid the fierce sunset on caring prairies,
The shadows of an unsought marriage
Sing the melody of my constellation's rise.
Minutes will see the passing of daylight
all together into the silent virtues of night.
Where will your love lead you,
When the parking is taken,
And the meters all dead?
Where will your love find you,
When the seats are all empty,
And the children in bed.
In a minute, the word will be past.
In the soft blow of the breeze,
Your lips will be kissed.















Comments
--
"To avoid criticism: do nothing, say nothing, be nothing."
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
--
To twist one purest cause
Into an honest verse,
Itself, a call to angels.
The saddened lips of song that
Kiss away our innocence
From the vile mundane.
~justb
i might like to
devour them
bravo
--
Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
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