In Thoughts Sublime.

Have I but Breath to whisper thy name
Or mould thy features in the winds of time
Hath love now branded upon my brain
Passions excess in thoughts sublime

Each breath a torment that we're apart
Thy touch so soft upon the skin
The gentle pounding of the heart
Belies the love thats held within

Upon the morrow these eyes may see
That which is deemed as something shallow
A vacant space on sheets of cream
On scented air of melted tallow.



Poetry by penfold18
Read 623 times
Written on 2006-11-18 at 12:40

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BlueyedSoul
Upon the morrow these eyes may see
That which is deemed as something shallow
A vacant space on sheets of cream
On scented air of melted tallow.

exquisite lines graham.

~Blue
2006-11-18