The pale olives gave me slumbered clues
They seemed like tender smashed berries
Tranquil with the cold devoid marble floors
Where I could hear your soul breathing to mine
Like an alienation to my empty heart yearning
Which pressed upon your tenor’s quietude
Yet offering me your terse wordlessness
Standing behind shadows of vacant truths
As I delved upon the fatuity of these desires
I was confused as to your lips true inner smile
Where your hair changed its lengths & colors
Depriving my passion of our inamorata nirvana
Yet in this reposing embrace of wanting you still
I searched through voided vacuousness unfufilled
Speaking to your soul with my own abandons…
Seeing what is, Is the beginning of growth and truth. We all let what's on the surface drive us, but it is what lies beneath that really counts. Lovely poetry as always, my friend.
'Standing behind shadows of vacant truths'...what a classic line! As usual Victoria, a poem filled with vivid imagery and sensual innuendo, superb!
Warmest regards,
David
(Charlestown, Rhode Island) - Welcome to AILEEN’S GUESTHOUSE where locals and lodgers have more in common than first meets the eye. And, there's plenty of blame to go around.
Kimberly has gone from a well-paid female executive one minute to a desperate woman the next. Thinking her day can't possibly get any worse, she finds out how wrong she is when she goes home. The only way to set things straight is to get even.
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Peace,love and light,
Amber
Warmest regards,
David