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My, Dear. My, Darling.
My darling we are young and so is this night.
Lets sit on the bank of a nameless creek
And speak without words just lips and eyes
Hold my hand and stare at the lines in my skin
And I'll stare at the care in your honey comb eyes
In the star light every single thing looks
Every single shade of right and sweet and
And what ever makes you seem to breath through
Your eyes and drink through your smells.
Sit next to me in a golden infant infantry
Of old grass giving you a smile bath.
You sit next you me with tapering cheeks
Tapering to an open jaw. Would you love me
Dear when I'm old and thin or fat,
When the stars fall from the never ending
Sky burning holes in countless, careless
Faces? We grow old with the night.
And you wake with a varnish of spring dew
On and in your eyes. On and in your mouth.
Who will we turn out to be when our hair once
There is in the care of our combs, clothes and shower drains,
When our friend have evaporated and our sight is blurred?
To tell you the truth I think we'll be the same
As when we learned to walk, as when we learned to talk
Perfectly the same as when our mothers' waist first widened
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This article has 27 comments.
Thank you DreamWriter.
This poem is me talking to myself at 3 a.m. about a girl I wanted to grow old with. I wanted it to sind with out music maybe it worked?
Thanks that's really awesome of you!
Yeah, this is all about the feeling...like...music you know what I mean? The words set the mood The sound. The flow.
It's just one big question.