Dry Ice

December 11, 2009
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In the springtime
I a rouge
Marked by scratches
From a rose
I, covered hands now
Leather gloves
For thorns which cut me
Broke my love

I searched for flowers
Far and wide
But all were plain
Out and inside
Then a flower caught my eye
An orange orchid, soft and spry
She bore no thorns
Her eyes just like water
I yearned to kiss her
As soon I saw her

She was young and gorgeous
And burned like a fire
And so I made sure
It was me she desired
I took off my gloves
So closer to hold her
My hands now were callused
And harder and older
We lay in the grass
Under blankets of stars
Her soft hair in my hands
She could see my old scars

Then our passion was gone
Lost in different directions
Our fire blown out
By unspoken affections

And the bridges I’ve burned
Make me feel a bit colder
My lips turn a blue
While the red ashes smolder
I’ve come to regret
The cold turn of my shoulder
At least there’s a lingering wish I had told her

I loved her

I did,
I said it, but coldly
I whispered the words
But never spoke boldly
Stagnant and still
I now sit here
But still, I remember
She swayed like a flower

An orchid

In the breeze
In the trees
But winters come
So fall the leaves
Grey the skies, and hide the bees
We’ll burn our love
To keep us warm
I’ll hide my tear
In the rain of the storm
When skies come to clear
It is clear we won’t bond
We’re just two stretching leaves
In the ice of a pond

With her in my past,
And our past in my eyes,
Every bridge that I burn,
I am burned by the ice

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

ColorsofChaos13 said...
Feb. 9, 2010 at 5:35 pm
Truthfully beautiful.
Tamara*Monta said...
Jan. 15, 2010 at 3:15 pm
Good poem... I loved the way you compared sombody you loved with nature verry creative
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