sunday sonnet . exquisite corpse poetry
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Love and Houseplants
04.02.2005 04:19
Would that I knew you better;
your face like a smooth mask
and dark eyes so remote;
one glance,
can start me shivering.

The sophist siren symphonies
of unrequited love and desire
tempt me beyond measure;
who knows,
maybe you feel the same.

The plant on the windowsill
has bloomed its last bud
and trails sad, brown vines,
flung wide,
in the indignity of death.

Inches below its dry fingers,
above gleaming porcelain,
there sits a dripping faucet;
hard reality,
to shrivel so close to life.

My mind wanders this truth
as my heart curls and browns,
and I feel thirst consume me;
tell me,
will I die for want of you? (under reconstruction)
see i do exist :)

thank for the place to post a piece of my soul
every little splintered piece i remove helps (soon)
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