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Array ( [sid] => 115672 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => * ways * [time] => 2006-03-02 00:44:04 [hometext] => [bodytext] => If ~
i had it my way......
you'd be using a soft quill brush
dipped carefully in red-violet ink
or run smoothly -like blush- along a shiny canvas block, in pink
By candlelight, on cold, dark nights we drink
from the bottle with the wax stamp seal
You got to me by wing or ship
across sand and violent seas
so your every word feels exquisitively
like your hands holding the very heart of me-
which stops beating
every time you command me
to get back in the box...
How many boxes have I tried to fit in?
from terrorist to peacemaker... the silent witness, the victim...
from street chile to savior... the secret keeper... even sex kitten...
Always changing the rhyme,
but the reason remained the same flowing rhythm-
and I hold all the syllables...
Equal to a single rose, I hold close to my chest
yet you assume I deem to resume a past interest?
In the same way that chalk to slate is tested,
with out regard for what's been invested,
your lack of trust, is suggested.
But you know ways of saving face,
so word-play becomes my saving grace
and I can feel a less painful trace
in the message from your endless repitior
to top the wettness in my resivior
I read the words and know that because they're there
you must care,
but sometimes I feel so stupid- I am healing
yes, but I carry the scars...
Can you remember promising me the stars?
If so, then maybe this distance between us won't seem so far
But if you could,
would you change the way we are?? [comments] => 1 [counter] => 176 [topic] => 73 [informant] => poeteeza [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
* ways *

Contributed by poeteeza on Thursday, 2nd March 2006 @ 12:44:04 AM in AEST
Topic: abstract



If ~
i had it my way......
you'd be using a soft quill brush
dipped carefully in red-violet ink
or run smoothly -like blush- along a shiny canvas block, in pink
By candlelight, on cold, dark nights we drink
from the bottle with the wax stamp seal
You got to me by wing or ship
across sand and violent seas
so your every word feels exquisitively
like your hands holding the very heart of me-
which stops beating
every time you command me
to get back in the box...
How many boxes have I tried to fit in?
from terrorist to peacemaker... the silent witness, the victim...
from street chile to savior... the secret keeper... even sex kitten...
Always changing the rhyme,
but the reason remained the same flowing rhythm-
and I hold all the syllables...
Equal to a single rose, I hold close to my chest
yet you assume I deem to resume a past interest?
In the same way that chalk to slate is tested,
with out regard for what's been invested,
your lack of trust, is suggested.
But you know ways of saving face,
so word-play becomes my saving grace
and I can feel a less painful trace
in the message from your endless repitior
to top the wettness in my resivior
I read the words and know that because they're there
you must care,
but sometimes I feel so stupid- I am healing
yes, but I carry the scars...
Can you remember promising me the stars?
If so, then maybe this distance between us won't seem so far
But if you could,
would you change the way we are??




Copyright © poeteeza ... [ 2006-03-02 00:44:04]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: * ways * (User Rating: 1 )
by JGB on Sunday, 23rd April 2006 @ 03:23:29 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
This sounds so familiar. It seems i have been here and done that. Is it a special love or is family. Good write!

I think you have it!





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