There is no adjective to describe her.
But then, there is nothing
To summarize me.
Her name alone will do.
It fills me with tingles.
A few days ago I even heard her voice.
She spoke four simple words
And on the way home
I kept repeating them again and again.
I had not heard her voice in a long time.
She is better at my passion than me,
And she is shrouded in mystique.
How can I not be fascinated by her?
The winter willow is washed in
Electric blue light,
The disco lights on the ceiling
But a universal aurora,
Shimmering and morphing and captivating me.
The balloons swirl in the air,
Their ribbons flailing.
They fall.
Why can’t you catch them?
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoetryWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
