Thursday, February 05, 2009
My hubris, dissolved in the tempered innocence of your extant being, that which you comport with sensitive sentimentality and an occluded obsession, which only you and I can understand and admit to.
These words scribbled on a palimpsest awash with the quotidian events that make up our lives. This wondering if you surreptitiously steal away from all that fills your heart to ensure there is a missive of pain and a committed declaration of yearning from one who knows so little of you.
What is your name? I do not know that, so I call you by only the one I do know of. Where do I send you flowers? I do not know. So I address my clumsy bouquet of hand-picked and discreet words to seduce a smile from those cerise lips. What does one say to reinforce all that the soul has in sweet trauma suffered since that first parting of intimacy? How different are these ripostes when all that is there are empty echoes bouncing off the stony callousness of these chambers of your stilled heart.
I wish you would speak and not merely to dismiss me from my lonesome vigil. I wait in the afterglow of gloaming till the chthonian creatures of the night grow weary of their jeers and leave with one last hustle as the weary dawn tugs at these drooping eyelids.
But sleep is lost to me now. And I wonder if you know....
These words scribbled on a palimpsest awash with the quotidian events that make up our lives. This wondering if you surreptitiously steal away from all that fills your heart to ensure there is a missive of pain and a committed declaration of yearning from one who knows so little of you.
What is your name? I do not know that, so I call you by only the one I do know of. Where do I send you flowers? I do not know. So I address my clumsy bouquet of hand-picked and discreet words to seduce a smile from those cerise lips. What does one say to reinforce all that the soul has in sweet trauma suffered since that first parting of intimacy? How different are these ripostes when all that is there are empty echoes bouncing off the stony callousness of these chambers of your stilled heart.
I wish you would speak and not merely to dismiss me from my lonesome vigil. I wait in the afterglow of gloaming till the chthonian creatures of the night grow weary of their jeers and leave with one last hustle as the weary dawn tugs at these drooping eyelids.
But sleep is lost to me now. And I wonder if you know....
Labels: Halloween Eve ~ Ghost of a Thought
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