Vanilla Boats
Contributed by
Ingredients
on
Thursday, 18th April 2013 @ 10:15:32 PM in AEST
Topic:
LovePoetry
|
Tonight I met a girl that, when,
she talks to me my heart does swim,
Who is she, and who am I?
Not nearly are we qualified,
to spend this time against the grain.
Surely, someone can help explain!
With hair as black as night and sin.
A Past of woe and pain within.
Her lips that touch like seraphim.
Her grace, like that of violins.
An enigma, like the theremin.
But, allow me to tell you again,
the meaning of my words.
Must I confess, I might mislead,
as description does no justice here.
My hurried verse, carries no seed,
to inflame the heart on every tier.
If words were mead, and how they flow,
like honey rivers, they would bleed,
the tap I try to turn on low,
I dam the holes, but it proceeds.
Within this drink, around your mind,
I try to waylay its passages.
But out it creeps from places blind,
delivering written packages.
So on I go, for when I missed,
a chance to brag your feracity.
A model woman, I must persist,
one of elegance and modesty.
A face which hints of hesitance,
her body reflects her industry.
Is love, for her, an arrogance?
A course, in wasted futility.
I hope I find some wicked kink,
as vanilla boats are bound to sink.
It matters not when said and done,
lovers sounds, are regardless, fun.
Though let me say before too late.
About that shell I plan to break,
I hope you enjoyed your solemn fears,
it's your light, I'd like to awake.
For between both my hands and ears,
You'll find no slighted sympathy,
I hold many tools to ease your tears.
Come discover the symphony.
Copyright ©
Ingredients
... [
2013-04-18 22:15:32] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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