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(
[sid] => 18797
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => It hurts
[time] => 2003-06-08 20:35:00
[hometext] => Is this love?
[bodytext] => What can I say to the girl when she makes me feel sick? That her smile is worth more than I could ever afford? And her face… what of her face?! That it frames the forecast for my day? That each frown is a natural disaster that deserves a day of mourning? Or that each glance freezes my heart? And each moment she is away kills a part of my self? I cannot say these things. For then it would magnify each and every heart beat till the pounding drowned every emotion, and I could not grasp for air, that the choking would still my voice in a suffocating stupor. And I would return as what? A haunting apparition bent on grasping that which it can no longer touch but for eternity crave. To observe the running of time and other's happiness above its own. I could not bear or choose such a doom. But then who chooses his own fate? To grin and bear (bare?) is what they say. A lie older than decorvm dvlce…? Both to send us till the end of the world, unfulfilled except for promise. Is the free will that we have given to us merely to choose our failures? And what if those failures were greater in total but shared amongst two? But I wander. For wonder is what I feel as I brush the hair from her face, whether it be in dream or waking. To unveil that which should be forbidden. They say love is too feel more than you are, but is it not also to feel that which you should be. A reminder of what you were given and what you gave back. Who knows? Is knowledge in another way not absolute truth but sensation that something or someone touches you beyond the realms of plausibility. That reaches into you to where your heart lies. Not anatomically but deep into your centre so deep that you cannot believe it has not reached beyond you to fetch another. But then perhaps it has…
[comments] => 2
[counter] => 338
[topic] => 2
[informant] => tflm
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 0
[ratings] => 0
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => LovePoetry
)
It hurts
Contributed by
tflm
on
Sunday, 8th June 2003 @ 08:35:00 PM in AEST
Topic:
LovePoetry
|
What can I say to the girl when she makes me feel sick? That her smile is worth more than I could ever afford? And her face… what of her face?! That it frames the forecast for my day? That each frown is a natural disaster that deserves a day of mourning? Or that each glance freezes my heart? And each moment she is away kills a part of my self? I cannot say these things. For then it would magnify each and every heart beat till the pounding drowned every emotion, and I could not grasp for air, that the choking would still my voice in a suffocating stupor. And I would return as what? A haunting apparition bent on grasping that which it can no longer touch but for eternity crave. To observe the running of time and other's happiness above its own. I could not bear or choose such a doom. But then who chooses his own fate? To grin and bear (bare?) is what they say. A lie older than decorvm dvlce…? Both to send us till the end of the world, unfulfilled except for promise. Is the free will that we have given to us merely to choose our failures? And what if those failures were greater in total but shared amongst two? But I wander. For wonder is what I feel as I brush the hair from her face, whether it be in dream or waking. To unveil that which should be forbidden. They say love is too feel more than you are, but is it not also to feel that which you should be. A reminder of what you were given and what you gave back. Who knows? Is knowledge in another way not absolute truth but sensation that something or someone touches you beyond the realms of plausibility. That reaches into you to where your heart lies. Not anatomically but deep into your centre so deep that you cannot believe it has not reached beyond you to fetch another. But then perhaps it has…
Copyright ©
tflm
... [
2003-06-08 20:35:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: It hurts
(User Rating: 1 )
by Wrybod on
Monday, 9th June 2003 @ 03:29:33 AM AEST
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Now I kknow you are DEFINTELY NOT OLD.
Surely this write is an excellent analysis of the mind trying to cope with it's relationship
to the senses.
Life is like launching your "boat" off a beach, first you have to get out through the breakers. |
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Re: It hurts
(User Rating: 1 )
by tease_whizz on
Tuesday, 10th June 2003 @ 04:02:01 PM AEST
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"They say love is too feel more than you are, but is it not also to feel that which you should be."
perfect. you've confused me know as to how many of your poems are 'real' but i still enjoyed this one. its a genuinely perceptive piece and you express well with the emotional turmoil that feelings and senses can inflict on the body, mind and soul. keep writing, Kate x |
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