Array ( [sid] => 142031 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Secret notes 2 [time] => 2008-05-01 08:29:02 [hometext] => His P.O.V. How unfortunate life can be... [bodytext] => As I was dreaming late one night
A face emerged from blackened light
And beckoned me with their slender hand
A face a s smooth as porcelain

And in there eyes a fiery light
The moment of weakness felt so right
To climb on board a forbidden flight
And give in to the temptress of the night

*

As passion lies beneth darkened sheets
Lit only by the light of city streets
Forbidden actions take place unseen
Known to both that should never have been

Fighting with all morals within
As he knows he shouldnt touch the skin
All passion building up inside of him
He drinks from the cup of wicked sin

*

He wishes for his skin to rip and rot
To give him a chance and reason to stop
For he wants the flesh that can not be tasted
So leaves his ground and the dream is wasted

Now nights on end he dreams again
But the face it never comes
So he ponders on of what he could have had
With the porcelain face with eyes so sad. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 188 [topic] => 32 [informant] => anesthetic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Secret notes 2


Secret notes 2
Date: Thursday, 1st May 2008 @ 08:29:02 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: anesthetic
As I was dreaming late one night
A face emerged from blackened light
And beckoned me with their slender hand
A face a s smooth as porcelain

And in there eyes a fiery light
The moment of weakness felt so right
To climb on board a forbidden flight
And give in to the temptress of the night

*

As passion lies beneth darkened sheets
Lit only by the light of city streets
Forbidden actions take place unseen
Known to both that should never have been

Fighting with all morals within
As he knows he shouldnt touch the skin
All passion building up inside of him
He drinks from the cup of wicked sin

*

He wishes for his skin to rip and rot
To give him a chance and reason to stop
For he wants the flesh that can not be tasted
So leaves his ground and the dream is wasted

Now nights on end he dreams again
But the face it never comes
So he ponders on of what he could have had
With the porcelain face with eyes so sad.

This poem is Copyright © anesthetic


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