Posted: Wed Apr 24, 2002 2:37 am
So close, but kept so far away.
Your lazy gaze pierces into the translucent haziness which is me.
And I am complete. Yet I am broken.
Do you see me standing here on the threshold?
Can you feel my fingertips gliding over you as butterflies would glide through the air?
Butterflies?
Kissing the sunlight with their painted wings ? floating in existence as though every moment were an eternity all its own.
You close your eyes, and I begin to fade.
Will you remember me?
You answer me with tears.
Tears shed in shattered indifference, as though they are birthed from a different life;
A life from a world clothed in legend and fable.
Real to you still, or forgotten by now?
Was it ever real to you? Or was it me who kept it alive?
Tears are alive.
They have such short yet meaningful lives.
You speak to me as you claim the tears from my face with butterfly kisses..
I can almost hear the memory:
?I am a soldier. I cannot conceive of love and pacifism. But.. but If you must give me something, give me that which I have forsaken the right to have.?
And so I have. Not peace, not love, but something else.
Something that is more real to you.
Something once given for you, now returned to me.
Now you finally understand the significance of tears no longer forsaken.
Their only purpose is to die. But in their death, they take with them the pain and suffering of the one who abandoned them to their fate.
Yes. The fate of tears.
And of me.
So I abandon you as well.
I?ll take with me your tears, and the confusion left by this war - and leave you with the strength you taught me to rally.
You place a rose on my grave and open your eyes once again.
And again I fade.
With a final butterfly kiss, I cross the threshold, whispering goodbyes to your retreating form.
Remember what it is to finally set free your tears.
That is true peace, love.
That is who I am.
So close, but never too far away.
I've never posted poetry before. Blame Blackrose for inspiring me to try something different. It's her fault for having such an awesome site! (Erm.. I'm not sure if I posted this right... I think I cheated somehow - oh, well. Yay me anyway!)
Your lazy gaze pierces into the translucent haziness which is me.
And I am complete. Yet I am broken.
Do you see me standing here on the threshold?
Can you feel my fingertips gliding over you as butterflies would glide through the air?
Butterflies?
Kissing the sunlight with their painted wings ? floating in existence as though every moment were an eternity all its own.
You close your eyes, and I begin to fade.
Will you remember me?
You answer me with tears.
Tears shed in shattered indifference, as though they are birthed from a different life;
A life from a world clothed in legend and fable.
Real to you still, or forgotten by now?
Was it ever real to you? Or was it me who kept it alive?
Tears are alive.
They have such short yet meaningful lives.
You speak to me as you claim the tears from my face with butterfly kisses..
I can almost hear the memory:
?I am a soldier. I cannot conceive of love and pacifism. But.. but If you must give me something, give me that which I have forsaken the right to have.?
And so I have. Not peace, not love, but something else.
Something that is more real to you.
Something once given for you, now returned to me.
Now you finally understand the significance of tears no longer forsaken.
Their only purpose is to die. But in their death, they take with them the pain and suffering of the one who abandoned them to their fate.
Yes. The fate of tears.
And of me.
So I abandon you as well.
I?ll take with me your tears, and the confusion left by this war - and leave you with the strength you taught me to rally.
You place a rose on my grave and open your eyes once again.
And again I fade.
With a final butterfly kiss, I cross the threshold, whispering goodbyes to your retreating form.
Remember what it is to finally set free your tears.
That is true peace, love.
That is who I am.
So close, but never too far away.
I've never posted poetry before. Blame Blackrose for inspiring me to try something different. It's her fault for having such an awesome site! (Erm.. I'm not sure if I posted this right... I think I cheated somehow - oh, well. Yay me anyway!)
I've never been good at poetry, but this one is beautiful. Very sad, though. Nice job, wsprs!