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Array
(
[sid] => 170228
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Loves Pestilence
[time] => 2012-01-16 13:34:49
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Who are you? This person I see before myself, I do not wish for the love of anyone else. I do not recognize nor understand them always, But I do not wish for anyone else still. Who are you? Gold among pebbles in a stream, somewhat hidden by the moss and dirt, Your surfaces tarnished by wither and wear still precious forever nevertheless, If perfection is not currently here. What am I? The glistening glaze to a prized ham, the currents rich and red with passion, That makes the tender meat ever more sweet? Or a bitter dose of ill needed pungence? Stinging at your breath and pallete. What am I? The sweet dew on a spring’s morning, Bathing the green grass in light and heavenly sparkle, or a wet and dangerous threat, Choking the once dry pastures? Who are we? Two sides of the same coin, or two pages of the same book, at different points of the same story. What do we mean? Or one another, A rude awakening to pleasant dreams, or an ever awake sweet and wonderful slumber? Do you count the hours and minuets that pass, or do you lazily anticipate, The meeting of our hearts and the marriage of our souls, The sweetness of a kiss and the brushing of cheeks. If this is so, then why do you not look at me? Am I like the wind whirling through your being, Irritating but also ever present? Why do I love thee so and cannot feel that very same love for myself? I love thee very deeply and dearly, but I cannot feel it yet. If you do love me so, then why do thee not show it? But the notion is ever present, yet not always apparent. In difficult times as these, I cannot go to anyone else. I long to taste the warmed wine, that is passion and loveliness of all kinds we can offer one another, To feel like dahlias in the sun, to feel tranquil and peaceful to kingdom come. Times like these and sweet memories, together plague my lonely and forlorn love, And fill my heart with emptiness, oh how just once again, I Want to see the sparkle in your eyes, that portrays I am all that matters in your heart, The enlightening burning passion that IS love. What are we? Lively and blossoming summer berries and roses, Or dead leaves that dance together in the wind? If only I knew, I could judge our fates ever more easily, I could nurse our bleeding love [comments] => 2 [counter] => 128 [topic] => 22 [informant] => JackGoodman [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )
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