I could remember the myriad of stars
sequined on the black canvas,
and sleep will not come to me yet.
My thoughts are the broken-winged bird
awaiting the breeze of uplifting sleep
the open window , the sun fallen to other skies
somewhere there is chaos and pain
and flowers unseen, untouched by life
but here, and now , there is this
your arm outstretched across my chest
my fingertips traversing the landscape of your skin
between us time has ended,beyond this there is nothing
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Author:
Dovestoneboy (
Offline) - Published: February 15th, 2019 18:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: sylviasearcher
Offline)
Comments2
Beautifully written, I love the creative use of metaphor
Thank you for your feedback.
Favourite read in a while.
Beautiful imagery.
A haunting transience
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