I've pondered what thoughts circulate behind those eyes,
Two blue whirlpools moving swiftly
As his hands race against the time.
He interprets my thoughts with the deepness that I write them,
And lately, my words have grown tired.
But without asking for much,
He fills those voids of empty space
The ones that the leeches made wider.
When I find myself tossing and turning at night
He speaks of the darkness
And his fascination with the concept of light.
And somewhere beyond my shallow thinking,
Beyond my superficial way of being,
There is a spark igniting the embers of what had fizzled out.
Two blue whirlpools
Forever my muse.
All I do is write about you.
YOU ARE READING
Sunset Over Pointe Inn
PoésieLove once stopped me from writing this book, and I hope that whoever is reading this someday finds the kind of love that inspired me to finish it.
