cinty-insanity

Beautiful contemporary muse, in denim and plaid clad hips you'll infuse my only positive trait, artistic bipolarity Your cheeky smile, joking lips speak mellow satire poetry longing to taste your prose, as of yet undiscovered. Pretty girl, in blindness you'll find clarity in me, or vice versa. Bleed gold words in silver verse endearing, your modest insecurities behind wooden eyes seeing straight through me.

Time denies fervent hands' greet Shuffling forward my eager feet Impatience acknowledged, no longer discrete Waiting over, pulse upbeat Relief wins over, triumphant peak Alone again, no need to speak Breathing ceased, softest cheek Lips hunting, fingers sneak Endless eyes adored so much Overwhelming praise, guiltless touch 'I missed you too' said as such In truthful tones, astounding luck Searching always for lying eyes Never found, honestly denies In heartfelt passion, candid replies Shock when, unexpectedly, realise, This is more than it should be. And yet You are all the words I cannot find All the joys yet undefined Sw

Sweat drips Heart skips Begging for redeeming lips Mumbles, trips Uncertain hips Welcome trembling fingertips Eyes glint gold As tongues unfold Words disintegrate untold Kisses bold Heat the cold Never surrender loving hold Frantic race Losing grace Pupils dilate, lashes trace Knuckles lace Face to face Content in infinite embrace

I fell for summer once, And of course I melted; She was too gorgeous for withstanding heat, Her nouns who promised autumn, Would perhaps be more sincere. Of course I fell, and blindly. Unlike my heroes, no epic written for my mirror, Now I shiver in the reflection, Contemplating questions without adjectives, And it's quite the eyesore. Winter no longer soothes her heat, Rather it puts our differences in contrast, Striking and painful, one wishes for the next month, then the next, Before realising there's no reprieve From embarrassing Spring comparisons. I never gave up on her, of course, I gave in, really, and she cringed,

Screw living, I'm better at lying Screw giving, I'm better at dying Screw you and your selective temperament No matter how temporary, still, I've got - Things to do, Things to say, Things to tell Myself (again) But I'm busy Being bored And annoyed with who I am, And who you're promising to be. I'm writing a book To pass time I don't have - About love, about death, About doubt. About being afraid Of snapping dehydrated petals (I won't say dead Because I'm still alive; Just thirsty for affection) Please do tread carefully. I seem to have misplaced My attention span And the likable part Of me Of who? I used to be

♪♫ I remember when I used to play connect the dots With your beauty marks and I could make picture perfect sheet music Audible to those on the other side of sanity I read your voice's musical notes With the composers eye, and Beethoven's ear and For the very first time I heard my song. The melody that sung me from oblivion; Mental images of finest tunes Are what I've been nodding my head to lately, And every now and then I find the amiable notes in my seldom plucked heart strings - Out of tune from misuse (or disuse) But either way, it doesn't matter You refuse to learn how to play. At least, not with me.