I know not you -
Just the color of your eyes
The shade of your hair
And your hand as you write -
Yet I know not you.
These things,
Though part of you, they may be,
Are external,
And I long to know
The color of your heart
The shade of your past
And your hand as it was dealt -
Perhaps then,
I would know you.
YOU ARE READING
T e l e s c o p i c | COMPLETED
PoetryWhat is it I see Through these wavering glass spheres? Foreign tongues written far off in the heavens, Feelings incarnate, Scrawled across the bottomless sky For the seraphs and me alone to read. ~~~~~~~~~~ HIGHEST RANK: #257 (8/28/16) Vote if you e...
