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Colours of a China Sky
I want you here,
right now, I want you
inexorably passionate eyes to hold your gaze
pulchritude expressed in all its fascination.
can’t think. can’t speak for lack of words.
all that come are clichés of a remembered yesterday;
colours for the blind who truly do know colours
feeling the passion of that which cannot be seen
if I blindfolded you
would you find my mouth, kiss, would you see
my eyes
then the night would have gone away
no more myths, no more dreams
Only the melodious tint of chocolaty
sensualism;
is chocolate an aphrodisiac?
sometimes colours contrast too much. they pain
the shadows of my quiet screams
that they could cry in classrooms silent
all that can be heard are vague dull meaningless
sounds,
now and then.
the way hair gently lies on paper
found her that morning so gracefully tired
the eyes now closed, the book’s still open, the pen dropped
the sound that made the cat perk up its ears.
she was so beautiful
and underneath was her autobiography...
can life be defined through words?
merely the whisper of an argument, the
quiet love, the passion that cannot be contained
the jokes that make you laugh but aren’t funny
the cute guy who won’t look at you
the attitudes that irritate the hell out of you
does that hell go somewhere?
does it go back into the underworld?
maybe we are all from hell, for what else would it mean
if it is a sin to be human?
there. see the sunshine?
the china sky has already cracked.
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