P

pacing. panting. painting pictures with perfectly pluralistic pronouns.

We all want to say it how it is.
We needn't spin tales to make us significant.
I'd like to call it natural.

The Colors became
breathtaking
with Time













http://tropicalrips.deviantart.com/art/colors-of-life-108721977



We once knew where we were going.

Time. and Times.

Photos few and far between

We all wanted you to come home
We begged for your survival
stood witness to your soul


Warmer
Friendlier
More Inviting
In the back of my
damp
dark
Apartment
I have paced
sorted laboriously through
Piles of history
that don't belong
within these walls


The entirety of a year
fits perfectly on one small page


Ticktock ticks inside the stomach

Some kind of Something

http://karmapolice033.deviantart.com/art/shadow-love-25518163




{Perhaps
We are fools
for Believing
In Love.}

It took
very few
Moments
For you
to convince
me.
I'd sworn off.
Laughed at
a thousand
little kisses.
Kisses like
wings of
butterflies
across
flushed cheeks.
Your lips
lusciously
parted.
We met
Half Way.

_______________________________________

Where have we been hiding? Perhaps under the riddles of a respectable life. Do we dare desire a dangerous indulgence?
_______________________________________


Underestimating
The power
Of converging
Souls

_______________________________________


I've never
Drooled out
Love poems.

There is
A first
For Everything.

________________________________________


I allow time to converge
Scan horizons for some sign
I trace circles around your name
Watch the storm clouds roll in
I pace the entrance below the stairs
And listen to the whispering wind

Peace
Mandy