At times she cannot talk,and other times she refuses to talk..and other other times,the time ceases.
Fortunate are those tongues that are able to confess a million times the same things..but well..her disablities are her last resort.
Keep your sails lows and curiosities high.For in any case,she will pass by.
I hope you dont hear her footsteps,for while being noisy they can ruin a few of your ways.They can make them look,ideally nothing.
And then please dont weep and sigh.She will anyway,pass by.
She comes, to go.
She stays, to know.
She smiles and forgets to cry....because between the two, you just passed by.
She will adore you,and then kill you..softly.
She will smell of jasmine,but will never be a cure for your pain.
She will see what you show,but will always have the same thing to see.
She will be you for a while,and then will forget to get back to her.
She will seem to understand,but will still make you feel terribly speechless.
But please let her pass by anyway,for her feet have ceased to contain the pauses you throw.
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8 comments:
beautiful ....laden with gems and bathed in gold dust....like a sunken treasure ..like the lost manuscript ... wonderfully it winds in and out of its sorrow like something sweetly silken
She is powerful, you just dont see that power. She asks you to go, but you dare not move.
i already said "i won't"
...These illusions :)
Your purple poem deepens.
The mirrors of jasmine can be
dangerous. Strong and layered.
She will adore you and kill you
softly, her disabilities are her
last resort, she will understand
and make you terribly speechless.
I feel to know her, I feel I may
be her, or need that part of me
or someone else.
"The art of our nececessities is
strange... that can make vile things precious."
Amazing..Keep em coming
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