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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 11:23:56 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 176207
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => I dream of her. Next to you.
[time] => 2013-06-01 10:00:18
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Its cold again, the blankets gone. She lies next to me, oblivious. I appreciate her for a second, but my first thought was someone i else i miss. I move closer under stripes of grey and white, reciprocation. Her attraction reveals itself through a sleepy, tender, kiss. She is oblivious. If i could strike down my demons id survive. If others could strike down their own id be free. If she would stay instead of running shed be alive. She says shes not for this, or me. She is oblivious. The truth writes itself in her eyes, ive read it over again. Her actions are a speech unspoken expecting interpretation. As is each movement under these stripes of grey and white. Words are left unspoken, empathy reigns amongst the scent of persperation. I am oblivious. She gives me love, its not enough, but it does make me forget. As another forces herself to hate me, through gritted teeth. I accept, its not me that she hates but if it soothes let it. It is what drives me, without this i am weak. She is not oblivious. Her broken heart. This is my burden to bear, not love. But trust and friendship, destroyed. Words of hurt so long ago, i remembered it differently. I had become an effigy to her suffering. This is oblivion. I did not love her as a man loved a woman. Not as a swan who mates for life. As a soul loves another soul of equal measure, that was how i loved her. She has assassinated my soul, deservingly, i handed her the knife. This is oblivion. I was viewed by all as a villain, a man who tortures souls. All but these two can see the truth. My desire for her is not lust. Nor is it love, i miss my friend of old. Someone who looked at me and did not lose faith or trust. I head to oblivion. As she once again lies next to me silent, beautiful. I embrace the misery, i run its ends between my finger and thumb. Comtemplating shakespeare, hamlet, thoughts of sleep and dreams. The rope is no longer an option, i have a child a son. He is oblivious. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 191 [topic] => 43 [informant] => MickyTwo1984 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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