Heart Of A Poetess
Immortalizing her muse, one line at a time
Be wary when loving a poet;
she will encapsulate your mischief in stanzas beyond recognition,
your momentary glance will seal her dreams for years to come
as she sits in observance of the glories hidden in its simplicity.
After grim departures, she can only keep you alive in writing,
recalling events that were vivid—feverish dreams realized in the midst of a horrid wake;
she can only feel your touch in the shifts between tones which dance freely through the stanzas.
The heart beating within, she who writes meets no threshold;
literary expression pours boundlessly into her beloved’s abyss,
a bottomless pit that swallows sentiment whole—leaving the giver dry and abandoned.
It is but a feminine touch upon the vibrancy life has to offer.
You will echo in her prose; every line baring the essence of your absence.
To the blind eye it’ll be taken as literary merit,
but for those in tune with the shambles of separation will hear the yearning heart of such a broken poet.
These words—laced with promise—is where you hide;
in between the lines of her composition is the solemn space you can occupy as of late.
A dedication to the hours spent scripting your memory.
