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Pocky-Machine — When I write
Published: 2010-03-13 01:59:13 +0000 UTC; Views: 254; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 10
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Description
When I writeit will be like blossoms
springing off the page
and wilting in you hand
and blowing away
in the breeze
The crisp
new pages
will smell sweet
and welcoming and warm
drawing you in
daring you to flip them
and inhale
The words
will taste bitter
to the unrefined tongue
and subtly sweet
to the practiced literate
and the pure of soul
more addicting
than the cocaine
running in the protagonist's veins
When you begin
to see through the characters' eyes
you will find
that they are brimming with tears
and it is difficult
to see the surrounding world
and its everchanging beauty
When I write
a symphony will spout
from the plotline
which is so like
a symphony itself
moving slowly to a climax
and stealing your heart away
You will hear the heartbeat
dance the dance
become the story
and search at the end
for one more page
when there is none to be found
When I write
I will do so in hopes
that you will see
underneath the sewers
of fantasy and escapade
and find
the truth I'm dying to tell
I will not write.
Not yet
It is too soon.
He is too soon gone,
to know that the story is done
ready to be written
I will not write.
Not yet,
but soon.
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Comments: 1
I like the idea of it.
It gives off a glimmer of hope, and a somewhat guarded sort of anticipation.
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