Half Done

There I was…

a life half lived,
a heart half loved,
blood slowing in my vein;
ideas clichéd,
metaphors stale,
words cumbersome, plain.

When she came to me,
like a familiar ache,
warm breath in the winter cold.
a poem with a fetish,
for a pleading bard,
asking to be held, to be told.

Then her voice faded
from my fingertips,
It was over, it had begun,
her unfinished form
on the vacant lines,
half perfect, half undone.

Advertisements

Please leave a Thot...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s