I sit talking to her, watching her eyes dance in the firelight.
I cannot take in the words she is saying.
Her elegance and figure filling the room.
What do I say to her?
What should I do for her?
She talks back to me, trying to make me listen
But I cant.
I just stare at her face, her skin smooth and unimpeded.
What do I want from her?
What does she want from me?
The fire turns to embers, a glowing husk of what it once was.
And still we talk, her filling my head with her words,
like some insane poison.
What do we want from life?
What does she want from life?
The fire burns out completely, leaving the room darkened.
Lit only by her soul.
We talk in the darkness,
without time or place.
Why is she here?
Why am I here?
And finally it is morning, the dawn chorus bringing us round.
I cannot explain anymore.
She says “goodbye”
A final goodbye? Or just till later?
Why am I?
Why is she?
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punk_chick242003: wow this is an crazy poem very good! on October 28, 2005 7:48 PM
