She kept locked up in her soul
On The Brink
I Am Going To Sleep
Not a ray of moonlight must filter to me
nor white roses or seasprays of lillies of the valley
Cover me with marble and vine leaves
Clad me in scarlet
and may God forgive me
Dark with Deceit
Caroused to ruin
Let me feed my body to the humid earth
Today is Saturday and it is cold
On the street faded papers are blowing
It's five o' clock
The white bed holds the warmth
Hollow
of a body that lost her gaze, uncaringly
never to find it again
Between sky and shore
Tied to the mast
Within me is the endless forgetfulness of the sea
Leave me alone now and Thank You for your trouble
Oh ,and one last favor I must bestow on thee
If the doorbell rings again
Tell him not to keep trying
There is no more pretending
He'll never see me smiling or laughing
saying that I'm fine again
Do tell him there's no more crying
I do not live here anymore
I've gone away
As down the dusk we step,to the silver edge at the river's low brink.Here is the perfume of leaves with their clinging scent. Sandal incense and musk breeze. Perfect for cold weather and unsure souls.
Poetry by TheresaCecilia
Read 809 times
Written on 2006-04-10 at 00:03
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On The Brink
She kept locked up in her soulOn The Brink
I Am Going To Sleep
Not a ray of moonlight must filter to me
nor white roses or seasprays of lillies of the valley
Cover me with marble and vine leaves
Clad me in scarlet
and may God forgive me
Dark with Deceit
Caroused to ruin
Let me feed my body to the humid earth
Today is Saturday and it is cold
On the street faded papers are blowing
It's five o' clock
The white bed holds the warmth
Hollow
of a body that lost her gaze, uncaringly
never to find it again
Between sky and shore
Tied to the mast
Within me is the endless forgetfulness of the sea
Leave me alone now and Thank You for your trouble
Oh ,and one last favor I must bestow on thee
If the doorbell rings again
Tell him not to keep trying
There is no more pretending
He'll never see me smiling or laughing
saying that I'm fine again
Do tell him there's no more crying
I do not live here anymore
I've gone away
As down the dusk we step,to the silver edge at the river's low brink.Here is the perfume of leaves with their clinging scent. Sandal incense and musk breeze. Perfect for cold weather and unsure souls.
Poetry by TheresaCecilia
Read 809 times
Written on 2006-04-10 at 00:03
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
