Monday, April 2, 2012

ME: She

She pulls every string I am build of,
plays dark melodies on my soul,
brings any rhythm to my heartbeat,
moves my flesh into a frantic dance.

She writes poetry with my lips,
otherwise speechless,
she draws masterpiece in a blink,
with the blood from my tips,
she flies me high
with wings I don’t have on,
she swims me deep
with lungs that don’t breathe.

She brings me back
when I ceased living,
she kills me right
after I’m born.


The Southern said...

very smooth and feels like a confused lesbianism venue of poetry

Nevena said...

well since no one so far grew up to the idea of writing a poem for me, I had to do it myself! :P :}

The Southern said...

writing a poem needs the insane and innocent infant child inside not to grow up, growing up is for those who need to propose and commit...:) Teeze me....