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[i]
I find myself chasing the ghost of you;
my fingers pressing against the fragile surface of my soul as the wind howls outside my window.
You used to keep me warm--
yet now, in the magic hours of the early morning
the fire has gone out and I am shivering in the ashes of what forever used to mean.
I am haunted by the whisper of you sliding against my skin
and sometimes I still think you hold my heart in your hands.
But the cold has frosted over the windows of you
and I am left like a child, pressing my nose against the glass and trying to breathe you in.
I try to forget that you're gone, but the breeze
whistling through the trees is like the sound of your voice
and the echoes of all the good-byes I never wanted to say.
Sometimes I feel the imprint of your hands in my hair and wonder
who the real ghost is.
[ii]
It was in you that I discovered the hues of forgotten horizons
and paint splattered our hands as we struggled to color our world.
We are so afraid of forgetting, picking up the stones
of our childhood and putting them in our bags
and I never realized how heavy our pockets had become
until I couldn't step forward.
We climbed our mountains side by side in silent solitude while grasping each other through the rainbow afterimages branded on the back of our eyelids from looking at the sun for too long.
In the end we might be blind, but we never really needed eyes to see.
[iii]
You bring the world to me on dust-coated fingertips, and when I think of you I always imagine cherry blossoms raining down on your hair.
There are times when I cradle your name in the cup of my palms
and smear the colors of you against the jagged edges of my life
because you make them beautiful.
Sometimes I honestly believe that you have caressed unicorns
and clung to the backs of dragons,
dark eyes shining with the implicit understanding of your world.
I often think I dreamed you because my world doesn't have such colors
and you are like nothing I have ever seen before.
[iv]
You held me in misty half-life moments and watched as I grew into the burdens of myself.
I long to run my hands over your face,
brushing over cheekbones and the expanse of your mouth
because you were there I first discovered understanding and I want to understand you,
to dip myself inside the essence of you and find out what makes you so addictive.
You are a craving now, holding onto the edges of my soul and if I asked
I think you would take me apart.
You are more and less than everything I ever thought of you, and I wonder if in your heart I'll discover where forever went.
I find myself chasing the ghost of you;
my fingers pressing against the fragile surface of my soul as the wind howls outside my window.
You used to keep me warm--
yet now, in the magic hours of the early morning
the fire has gone out and I am shivering in the ashes of what forever used to mean.
I am haunted by the whisper of you sliding against my skin
and sometimes I still think you hold my heart in your hands.
But the cold has frosted over the windows of you
and I am left like a child, pressing my nose against the glass and trying to breathe you in.
I try to forget that you're gone, but the breeze
whistling through the trees is like the sound of your voice
and the echoes of all the good-byes I never wanted to say.
Sometimes I feel the imprint of your hands in my hair and wonder
who the real ghost is.
[ii]
It was in you that I discovered the hues of forgotten horizons
and paint splattered our hands as we struggled to color our world.
We are so afraid of forgetting, picking up the stones
of our childhood and putting them in our bags
and I never realized how heavy our pockets had become
until I couldn't step forward.
We climbed our mountains side by side in silent solitude while grasping each other through the rainbow afterimages branded on the back of our eyelids from looking at the sun for too long.
In the end we might be blind, but we never really needed eyes to see.
[iii]
You bring the world to me on dust-coated fingertips, and when I think of you I always imagine cherry blossoms raining down on your hair.
There are times when I cradle your name in the cup of my palms
and smear the colors of you against the jagged edges of my life
because you make them beautiful.
Sometimes I honestly believe that you have caressed unicorns
and clung to the backs of dragons,
dark eyes shining with the implicit understanding of your world.
I often think I dreamed you because my world doesn't have such colors
and you are like nothing I have ever seen before.
[iv]
You held me in misty half-life moments and watched as I grew into the burdens of myself.
I long to run my hands over your face,
brushing over cheekbones and the expanse of your mouth
because you were there I first discovered understanding and I want to understand you,
to dip myself inside the essence of you and find out what makes you so addictive.
You are a craving now, holding onto the edges of my soul and if I asked
I think you would take me apart.
You are more and less than everything I ever thought of you, and I wonder if in your heart I'll discover where forever went.
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Oh my goodness, darling. This. . . just--
This is beautiful.
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Thank you. ^_^
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I haven't seen this in your work in a while, to be honest.
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What was too repetitive? I'll try and fix it.
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Send me an e-mail or I'm forcing you to tell me tomorrow.
You seem melancholy tonight.
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Second, *worships you*
Just . . . Mori, this is all the words that have been fighting to breathe through my skin, and you are beautiful and wonderful and I love you. (Are you in LG? I thought you were. POST. THIS.)
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Second, *worships YOU*
And thank you for your kind words (even though this is cliche and repetitive and I totally stole the style off of you)
(I am in LG, but I suck. Seriously.)
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There are times when I cradle your name in the cup of my palms
and smear the colors of you against the jagged edges of my life
because you make them beautiful.
Ohgod. *breathes*
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You do know you own me, yes?
(and it's not that special! <3333333333)
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amnot. *toes ground*
But thanks for saying so. ^^
*HITS YOU*
my fingers pressing against the fragile surface of my soul as the wind howls outside my window.
You used to keep me warm--
yet now, in the magic hours of the early morning
the fire has gone out and I am shivering in the ashes of what forever used to mean.
...
I often think I dreamed you because my world doesn't have such colors
and you are like nothing I have ever seen before.
...
You are more and less than everything I ever thought of you, and I wonder if in your heart I'll discover where forever went.
Damn.
Just DAMN.
Reading stuff like that makes me not want to write because the envy just curls up in me and takes hold and it is NOT cliche because its based on human emotion and all humans feel the same meaning no feeling can BE cliched because if we all feel it then its nothing but truth told.
Where the hell were you in my poetry class @ uni? If you tell me you're not following your dream of writing again I'll lecture you so much you'll think I'm your mother.
*scolds*
*smiles*
Just so you know that poem DESTROYED me.... in a good way. ;)
Re: *HITS YOU*
And...um... I was in my writing class over here when you had your poetry class over there? <33
But as for actually writing...well.
<3333
Re: *HITS YOU*
lol.... am glad you were in a class somewhere even if you weren't in mine.... being stuck with people who thought truly heart-rending poetry could be created in limerick form might not have been so tiresome had you been about :)
As for writing....What? What? Don't make me scold you! *scowls&growls*
Re: *HITS YOU*
....heart-rending limericks? I shall have to attempt that now.... :)
....I love writing, but I'm beginning to think that there are other things I need to focus on in my life, you know? Dreams are just dreams.
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i only wish i could write something like this.
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Thank you.
You are an inspiration. I want to scrawl your name across the walls of the ancient Greek oracle and along the Roman pillars so that everyone who comes after will know that there was someone in the world blessed with true grace. You are one of the reasons I still believe in beauty.
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i'd write a novel if i thought it could transmit even one thousandth of how you, this, everything makes me feel. and then, even if it did somehow manage to capture something of glory, i'd still end up clutching at you, incoherent and grasping.
just knowing you're around reminds me of the beauty of things.
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of our childhood and putting them in our bags
and I never realized how heavy our pockets had become
until I couldn't step forward.//
//There are times when I cradle your name in the cup of my palms
and smear the colors of you against the jagged edges of my life
because you make them beautiful.//
Oh wow, Mori. This is just gorgeous! Those lines are wonderful!
Beautiful poem, love.
*hugs*
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