Yes it is true that I am dreaming of making love to you
Your silky hair, those sparkling eyes, and that perfume
How can I forget you were my umbrella
And still you left me cold out in the rain to get wet
Oh well, with time came healing
And now my heart is singing the blues
Yes it is true I still talk of you like it was yesterday
Bet you don't even remember that it was my birthday
I guess I'm now tasting the bitter side of life
Yes it is true what we had was neither the sunny sky
Nor was it covered with fog just like the mountains in the beautiful places in Haiti
This nostalgia of you is only from harsh memories
I figured that no one told you about such an emotion
Because when you open the box you cause an eruption
That left me in devastation, that terminate, and finally annihilate
My love, which was a fragile thing.
-
Author:
Landsley Alexandre (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 2nd, 2011 07:26
- Category: Love
- Views: 35
- User favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy.
Offline)
Comments1
Aw. The way it began was so almost erotic, but it ended so sorrily. It's delightful, beautiful, fascinating, intriguing, alluring, enticing, disappointing. She ruined it. His love would not burn fiercely, but a delicate dancing, promising flame, was blown out of existence by her coldness....very interesting...I enjoyed it.
Thanks!!
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