I am a wanderer,
searching the ancient skies for
some form of answer and I've tried
to divine the constellations
and tried to explore the lost, dark
spaces but all I've learned from nights
spent stargazing is that
I am not a universe unto myself,
even if I may be composed of
similar, broken pieces.
there is no beauty about me,
there is nothing that makes one
ache with fervent longing and
I am surrounded by empty faces,
losing myself in a hidden recess
until I found her.
her smile is like the sun;
dangerous and warm and
making my heart melt and
drip like wax down the hollow roads
of my splintering bones
and I want to speak,
to bid her stay
but these words are
thick embers pressed,
held suspended by gravity and
they burn at the back of my throat
so I try to reach out
for the touch of her hand
but my fingertips are
much too ash-stained to grace the
beauty of her and my love for her
is supernova;
burning the retinas and leaving
imprints of stars upon the backs of
thin eyelids;
star-stuck
YOU ARE READING
Roses, Cherry Vodka & Her Perfume
PuisiA collection of (almost) love poetry inspired by my beautiful and exotic princess of a muse. (Please please please read and leave comments, I need some critics because I wanna give this to her as a present)
