Disjointed emotions on sanity’s edge,
Tatters of words we’ve already said,
Butterfly flash of what’s under here,
Complex realities of desires we fear.
Wordless and fragile, it remains just the same,
Promise to self that such madness bears blame,
For the idle of our monsters created full-blown,
The very same ones we pretend are unknown.
Mere inches keep apart our lips in grand speech,
Well aware of the time and space we can’t breach,
Too weak it remains to break down this deep need,
Curiosity urging where passions won’t lead.
As paper to paper faced with paragraphs long,
Our closeness to echo the rhythm of song,
The blend of two inks and our colors still wet,
No time for the edit or the twinge of regret.
Just two characters bound to the mystery’s end,
Unsure where the fiction and reality blend?
Or if when the page turns will the story remain,
An anthology of emotions we carelessly feign?
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Amor
Axilea
John
Always good things to you and yours,
Jim
JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
your talent for putting your inspired thoughts
in beautifully rhyme. -gene.
As paper to paper faced with paragraphs long,
Our closeness to echo the rhythm of song,
The blend of two inks and our colors still wet,
No time for the edit or the twinge of regret.
Total class. So good to have you return. xx
Ron
Newfie Hugs, Rose
The last two stanzas are pure brilliance.
To sound of angels wings
Again and again and again
As feathers float away from the nest
The author knows best.
Such inspiration
Has no boundaries
No limits
But someplace must start
And there's your heart!
I love the ending ~
Blessings,
Christine
Unsure where the fiction and reality blend?
Or if when the page turns will the story remain,
An anthology of emotions we carelessly feign?
You give the reader (me, in this case) much to reflect upon with your poem here, Michelle. Also, you have taught me a new word. Thank you. Love and best wishes,
Regis