A Surviving Young Adult's Rants and Raves.

Smoke

What is it about you

that draws me near?
Is it your half-closed eyes,
or your juvenile grins?

What feeling must I recognize
to know this is real?
Shall I love, care, hurt or fear?

What is it with my thoughts
that often carries you?
willing my eyes to close
so I might capture your face.
what power do you have over me
that the gust I feel is entwined
with your fingertips?

Soft caresses…fleeting kisses,
Everything is hushed and
my body comes alive.

I remember it all too well.
If I could only overlook these torments,
so my stranded person should recover
I would do so in a heartbeat.

But this heart,
fragile and cynical, have already
fallen victim to your tempest.

You are like smoke
beautiful, intense, but transient.
Slowly, surely vanishing as quickly as the flames ignited.
And if I dare to stroke or embrace it, it escapes.
And my empty hands shall seize the anguish from my soul.

You are my beautiful disaster.

Surely it is tragic, I scoff at the memory
when it all felt so light and giddy
but when my heart begins to hum a different tune,
the barriers, once more, take their spot.
And should I wish this wasn’t so?
I doubt…
For it’s the only way
this old, trampled heart can keep on beating.

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Comments on: "Smoke" (2)

  1. Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
    dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
    what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
    What primal night does Man touch with his senses?
    Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
    through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
    Love is a war of lightning,
    and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
    Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
    your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
    and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
    slips through the narrow channels of blood
    to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
    to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.

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