Like a Midas whose world grows cold,
Every heart I touch turns to gold,
Then drops like a rock to the ground
With a metallic crashing sound.
No amount of alchemy will suffice
As gold turns--somehow--into ice
And begins to melt down on the bare floor--
A once-rich thing now a puddle dirt-poor.
I look back to survey my wake,
Which consists mainly of heartache,
And try to smooth that which I've waived.
But water simply will not be paved....
Every heart I touch turns to gold,
Then drops like a rock to the ground
With a metallic crashing sound.
No amount of alchemy will suffice
As gold turns--somehow--into ice
And begins to melt down on the bare floor--
A once-rich thing now a puddle dirt-poor.
I look back to survey my wake,
Which consists mainly of heartache,
And try to smooth that which I've waived.
But water simply will not be paved....
7 comments:
my words slip through my teeth,
snake past my lips
too awkward to catch
evaporate through my fists
would it be easier to bury my head?
or call it a week?
please unhear what ive said,
just understand how i speak
... I have nothing to say...
AD
Why not, AD? What does that mean? (O_o)
Haven't you ever read a story, watched a movie, or heard a song that moved you to silence?....
AD
I see. Wasn't sure what you meant. :)
Its time to post new poetry please!
Sincerely,
FA
got some new stuff up
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