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Array
(
[sid] => 93486
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Child of the Moon
[time] => 2005-05-06 14:46:19
[hometext] => Was she real... or was it all in my head?
[bodytext] => Slender, milk-white face, Wide midnight eyes, searching, Gentle hunger sleeping within them, Her tireless curiosity caressing my body… She stars at me as if a painting, Pale surprise, depthless inquisition, White dress whispering in the wind, Head tilted, drinking all of me in… She sits on a withering bench of lost childhood, A moonlit enigma with undressing eyes, Leaving me naked and vulnerable, With just one lingering gaze… Ancient, knowing, Her pallid form radiated wisdom, None of which any child possessed, So much like I, she seemed… A beautiful illusion, ebony curls dancing in the breeze, Hands stretched out to embrace, What, I know not, For I was surely not in that world, In her presence… Surely, she would not wish to touch the Tainted, Unholy flesh, a false image of broken dreams… Yet, here she dwells, Buried in my arms, a soft, breathing fantasy, A radiant ghost of my past, Long forgotten in the midst of misery, Preserved deep within my memory… Crystals in her eternal eyes, Stars falling down her cheeks, A sigh of bliss, Oh, such a beautiful melody escaping her ruby lips, “I have found you at last…” And just as quickly as she appeared, Once more, she vanished, A fading vision of moonlit fantasy… [comments] => 5 [counter] => 158 [topic] => 60 [informant] => FleurdeSang [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => insomniac )
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