I reminisce over you.
Your conversations kept me. Accompanied me in the solitude of my mind.
Your words opted self-consciousness. Through you I transcended.
My fingers itch to write you. I Regress.
I feared the lucidity we once shared had diminished into obscurity.
If only you knew.
How you made me feel florescent like computer-screens.
My Fingertips danced across the keyboard, keys click-clackin' sound frequencies bouncing, echoing off white walls and you..
I fancied the way your poetic words flattered my thoughts.
Every syllable read like melodic sheet music, ancient manuscripts non-translatable to anyone but I.
You were my inspiration. Your verses painted murals equate with Jean-Michel masterpieces,
as you lulled the chorus and brought warmth to my core, leaving me speechless.
I'd respond with a sonnet if i could but honestly.
Octaves could not contain your essence and my rhyme scheme would fall a bit flat compared to your brilliance.
What I mean to say is,
I was never capable of being a poet in your midst. I craved to be one of your poems.
Muffled in somber hues of blue; both tender, yet alluring.
· Fri May 16, 2014 @ 08:41am · 0 Comments