I see people and know that they are but a bud,
not the flower they could be.
It is the what ifs that keep the petals closed.
What ifs laced with the fear of possibilities.
There is always someone who is more
funny, clever, outgoing.
There will always be someone who is better at
logic, writing, conversation.
a dash of humor, a sprinkling of kindness, a titch of courage
each time creating a different blend
a unique flavor of personality
one is no better than the other
it is all a matter of taste.
Looking at your face,
I can tell it's cold inside.
Your mouth gapes open,
And your chest does not rise.
Where have you gone dear?
As I lay a hand upon your cheek.
Are you better off there?
My hand drifts back to my side.
Ah, how I wish,
You could tell me what you see.
As I look into the distance,
With uncertainty.
Looking back at your form,
Which is yet still.
I softly give a sigh,
What will be will.
Quick sand all around me.
Pulling me down,
Slowly I am sinking,
No one else around.
I let loose a cry,
"Someone help me please!"
Two old and withered men,
Stopping in their work,
Perking their ears up.
"Do you hear that?", says the first.
"Why yes I do.", the reply
"What fine pitch that cry has."
He said as he cupped his ear
"Such a good set of lungs I imagine."
As the second listened close.
My chin on the sand,
Letting out a last cry,
"Will no one help me,
But instead let me die!"
"Such a fine voice to be heard.", said the smiling first
"As lovely as the birds." the second nodded
They listened close,
Waiting to hear more.
As they left the field that night,
They wondered on their way,
What had ever happened to that lovely voice?
Can you feel me,
standing near behind you?
The soft touch of my hand,
as I set it on your shoulder?
The hotness of my breath,
as it draws close to your ear?
Can you hear,
the intimate feelings,
I whisper gently to you?
The feeling,
that flows though those words,
as they travel to your ear?
Can you smell,
my sent fresh from the shower?
The shampoo,
that I lathered in my hair?
The soap that I used,
which trailed across my skin?
Can you see me,
a picture in your mind?
My eyes slowly drifting,
taking you all in?
Lids slightly closed,
a quirk of a grin?
Can you taste,
my desire,
on flat your tongue?
The dryness of my mouth,
as thoughts of you,
travel through my mind?
Can you?
Within the gentle darkness,
Silken black sheets.
The living misty fog,
A gentle lover.
Your bare flesh,
Revealed and caressed.
Thin light tendrils,
Glide across smooth skin.
A trail of cool dew,
Left in its wake.
Feather soft along your jaw,
Against your cheek.
Trailing further downward,
For the pleasure it yet seeks.
Can you wish upon a star?
looking up into the sky,
Even though it's very far?
as I almost wish to die.
May I touch that star so bright?
going nowhere on this earth,
As I gaze into the night?
just the same as from birth.
Dreams are ...
Life reflected in a mirror,
Shattered into shards.
Strung randomly together,
To form a crystal quilt.
Smokey and unclear,
Bright and vivid light,
Charms...
Of harmony and dissonance.
Racing yet controlled,
Still yet not dead,
Counterparts...
Of endless dance and time.
Dreams...
If you have enjoyed Dragoneyes' Poetry, then please be certain to e-mail her at dragone69[at]yahoo.com and thank her for posting her Work.
Click here for a list of all of Dragoneyes' Stories and Poetry at Sapphic Voices Authoresses.
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