, Future, Meet Past | Los Patiperros

Future, Meet Past | Los Patiperros

Future, Meet Past | Los Patiperros

[ad_1]


I identified an aged tricky drive and inside was a treasure trove of poems I wrote in 2008 (or, at the very least I last opened the doc in ‘08, eep)! This is back again when I still used double spaces following just about every sentence and experienced an AOL account. Insane how time flies. So here’s what little me considered poetry was all about.

Simply click the backlink below to browse much more

Upcoming, Satisfy Earlier

The curves of her hips
Seduce the shadows.
That very little purple dress
Burns brightly,
agony and enthusiasm
Mirrored in their eyes.

The lady with the broken wing
Doesn’t end.
Just can’t prevent.
for everyone
enable on your own herself.

If I have been more robust,
If she was older.
Possibly I could take care of it,
The edges,
Now coming undone.

Time is fickle,
And I can not reweave the tapestry
The moment Destiny has decreed it
just so

That ring on my fourth finger
Sprouts a pale hand.
It ticks off the hours:

Remaining or correct?
In or out?
Of synch with her fantasy.

What promises did I make
That led me right here?

A glass of white wine,
The ghost of Alice,
How could I forget about?
A earlier so lonely.

She doesn’t dance to a conquer
She sways to their whims,
Caught up in the breeze,
Her eyes browsing for mine.

I conceal in the folds
of time,
Aching to acquire her hand
just this after.

These warm summer tears, waiting.
Wiped clean up
With no
the tang of electrical energy,
Without the need of
the roar of swift punishment,
A would-be aloe to festering burns.

The phantoms of
Acceptance,
Mired deep behind
All closed doorways.
Just beyond her frantic access,
She turns to me.

The newscaster’s lipstick claims it all.
The letters on the table
forecast failure
in crimson ink.
Folks punctuate
their lives with personal
Variations of hell,
And
she smiles…

*shrug
Not everyone can break down and cry.

She does not have confidence in.
In
The principle of religion,
The maxim of excellent,
Hearts intertwined,
When I trace determine eights,
Just under the sun

Lesser stars
Glide via
Murky waters,
And the flecks of gold
In her eyes
Look at them go.
Enjoy her go,
Languid—

They say,
“Nothing.”

Now she
Tilts her facial area upward.
A silent prayer
To probable outcomes,
To that purple balloon,
To eco-friendly quantities in the dim,
To me.

Hearts defeat blood, not enjoy.
Minds crack less difficult than
The bodies that cradle them.
When does the upcoming meet up with the past
And shudder?

The female
The dance
The costume,
The pink dress,
crumples,
To the ground.

All alone
She requirements a little something
No, some
a person
to believe that in.

Think in me.

 

 

 

Photo Credit: Rene Böhmer

[ad_2]

Supply backlink