Can the tale of sound be told?
Seen and felt instead of heard?
If it’s possible to do,
I offer you these words —
I am not the love of your life.
And neither are you, mine.
Illusion is an outcast we both leave behind.
Now we dare embrace the reality we find.
Holding you close is, for me, just enough
Because you are the life of my love.
The chameleon crept to where he resides.
He hides in a crack in the wall,
The place his identity is unalibied
And his true colors are recalled.
Nighttime feelings, fires, and terrors —
Sometimes it’s good to pause and write
Of feelings that wake you in the night
What don't ladies do? This poem explains it.
Purple-blue night into
On the glacier,
There he lay...
I am not expert in any of the topics found in this blog. All content is the product of personal experience, research, imagination, and/or opinion.
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