April 28, 2010
By allicat BRONZE, Queensbury, New York
allicat BRONZE, Queensbury, New York
4 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music". Soren Kierkegaard

caught between the moon and its shadow
parade along the shores of a starlit basin
whispering of the places they were torn from
long tucked away in the creaking spine
of a dust- coated binding,
chained by the lips of a pen
they waltz
skirts twirling ‘round slender wisps of ankle
driving the contentment of the future
into the hollow echo of the night.
forgotten only to be remembered,
dancing eyes like phantom limbs
they are but veiled fragments of life
and yet
your flesh dulls in comparison.
every name is tucked beneath your tongue,
fits perfectly between your teeth,
but as your reflection settles before you
you realize
she sees straight through you,
through bone and blood,
blazing eyes fixed
on the girl
she believes
she doesn’t know you.

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