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So close, I can almost touch it,
Yet, so far,
It’s a million miles away.
Her face is soft, like pearly silk,
Her eyes of chocolate, soft, without edges,
Her hair, sunshine ringlets that tumble down her back,
Her mouth whispers, gentle words of tomorrow.
So close, you can feel how rough,
Yet, someday,
It could be just as soft.
My face is coarse, a crude and unfinished sculpture,
My eyes of endless darkness, cold, soul-less,
My dark hair surrounds like spilled ink on old parchment,
My mouth whispers, miserable words of tomorrow.
You take me gently,
Lead me into the light,
Your warm hand on my waist,
Your soft lips on my cheek,
Your gentle words surround,
Like a colorful cloud of butterflies,
Your soft eyes pour deep into mine,
And I feel for once beautiful.
 Morgana The Heartless · Sun Jul 08, 2007 @ 10:00pm · 0 Comments |
