Thursday, July 16, 2015

the most beautiful thing

are a hundred faults
to every word they speak
and one
to every kiss given

i waited my whole life
for that moment
like in movies
when the real world would become,
better than fiction

i found it only on the lips of men
that rush, that spin
where at last the plot began
to rush towards climax
the inevitable meeting of skin and skin

i lived whole days like dreams
weeks colliding into weeks
of fantasy

just like movies
just like poems

my hair, the wind
the other woman
southern belle
looked better on me than lip gloss

now i see things slowly
the steeping tea as it diffuses,
fills up my cup to running over
and the air is thick with honeysuckle

colours, now, stay in my dreams
and a racing heart
and the wind is for clouds
while my hair stays bound
and the silk that ties it
is the most beautiful thing 

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