Fire burns bright in the hours before the dawn, world and society measures grief, could it be they got it so wrong, so it is we live to give and share a world of joy, seek a mate, it is never too late, to be man or the boy.
Vulnerable I stand
Aware of the current
Of longing
Some time back
Passion took the bus
Right out of my life
I know about suffering
Through the bumps of life
And the endless stops it brings
And what the process
Of leaving can bring
That’s more like
My strength these days
Than glossing silver wings
Over clouds
Chasing sunsets
Feeling needed
I probably choose
The squalor of empty eyes
Seeking warmth in loneliness
An anesthetic of anonymity
Against the sharp pain
Of close intimate contact
Vulnerable I stand
Aware of the current
Of longing
The soundless splash
And unvoiced questions
Handed to me
On silver platters
By strangers
I stare as I look down
Finding my self reflected
In the tiles of the floor
I hate the floor that I walk now
I stare at it
The silence arriving
That steals the warmth
From the things
I once held close...
I really love and enjoy words written from the heart-mind-body and soul. it captivates and catches the readers attention and I admire you for that. Keep writing and never stop because writing is such a great form of all releases
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Seeking Warmth
Vulnerable I stand
Aware of the current
Of longing
Some time back
Passion took the bus
Right out of my life
I know about suffering
Through the bumps of life
And the endless stops it brings
And what the process
Of leaving can bring
That’s more like
My strength these days
Than glossing silver wings
Over clouds
Chasing sunsets
Feeling needed
I probably choose
The squalor of empty eyes
Seeking warmth in loneliness
An anesthetic of anonymity
Against the sharp pain
Of close intimate contact
Vulnerable I stand
Aware of the current
Of longing
The soundless splash
And unvoiced questions
Handed to me
On silver platters
By strangers
I stare as I look down
Finding my self reflected
In the tiles of the floor
I hate the floor that I walk now
I stare at it
The silence arriving
That steals the warmth
From the things
I once held close...
Copyright © 2006 Tinka Boukes
Love Tinka
Sandie May Angel :o(
Ron