Actions speak louder.I can't write poetry anymore.
Because you're the only muse I'll use
But everything I write about you, just comes out wrong.
there's no song I can sing
that'll bring justice to your smile.
I've been trying for quite a while
but all I can do is parody your beauty
with dull portraits and cliched phrases.
I want my praises to paint a picture of you
but my pallat is pittiful. It's just red yellow and blue
but you are made from a thousand shades
from countless tones.
And I've never known how to mix your colours right.
It's like I've been living in some endless night
and suddenly you've shown me the light.
But it's like trying to do needle point
with frying pans for hands.
I fail to capture your details
and I'm left with a crude overview of you.
And my similies and analogies don't make any sense.
I can't condense your awesomeness into any number of lines,
you're too strong for the confines of words.
And I know it's absurd, after all my complaining,
it is truly frustrating but also wildly liberating.
Because I'm not always trying to put you into writing
fighting to find the rhymes.
Now I can take the time to get to know you.
Though I'd love to show you a new peice I'd just written
to impress you, to leave you smitten,
there's other things that can impress us.
I mean, every kiss leaves me breathless.
We're living breathing poetry.
You could say, poetry in motion.
And I know that that notion is cliched
but I can't think of anything better to say.
And you can't deny that there's some truth behind
each cliched line.
And though I can't write poetry, it's OK
because with you I'm living a poem each day.
It's the sort of poetry that is seen and not heard
because action speak louder than words.
Poetry by Sparks
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Written on 2010-06-21 at 19:31
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