I know a girl who doesn't like to dust
Her voice speaks rain and hidden lust.
The landscape of her mind: gray and green,
She has a knowledge of things unseen.
Beauty and sadness, long dark hair.
She smiles softly as I stop to stare
into her face, as I study it intently
and wonder if I'll be able to hold onto it when she's gone.
This girl I know, she haunts my dreams
with silent cries and guilt-ridden schemes.
3 comments:
This reads very well. Are you not used to writing poetry?
I don't write much poetry. Can you tell? :) Hope you're doing well too.
No, I don't mean that it seems amateur. I was responding more to the term draft. I think you should write more poetry.
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