Her Lover's Eyes
this is really new and i don't know that it conveys the depth of what i wanted it to convey but i'm not sure how to make it work better and it's frustrating the snot out of me. Her Lover’s Eyes Silk reflects the sun’s light Like glass under my feet The liquid freezes at my touch Rings of ripples around my toes Echoing the frigidity in my soul Thin illuminated strands Descend gently from the sky Quiet humming fills the pale silence The light beams pulsate with sound Long slender fingers pluck the string Reverberation and harmony Pull a string to unwrap the sky Clouds tumble to my feet Thick, hard and brown ledge Grasp with insecurity Pull myself atop the pages Greeted with words ten feet tall Yellowing paper Torn edges Dog-eared corners Fading ink My ripped gown drawn there Compare the delicate details Both fading to the colour of decay Tears stream down my face I look above me to catch A glimpse of the artist I lie on the page and wait For his gentle pen stroke My hand reaches from the page Touching his shoulder A distant sigh escapes his lips He smiles at me, his muse I walk to the mirror on the other side Stare into the reflection Trying to see myself with his eyes There in the looking glass Playing a sunbeam harp
this is really new and i don't know that it conveys the depth of what i wanted it to convey but i'm not sure how to make it work better and it's frustrating the snot out of me. Her Lover’s Eyes Silk reflects the sun’s light Like glass under my feet The liquid freezes at my touch Rings of ripples around my toes Echoing the frigidity in my soul Thin illuminated strands Descend gently from the sky Quiet humming fills the pale silence The light beams pulsate with sound Long slender fingers pluck the string Reverberation and harmony Pull a string to unwrap the sky Clouds tumble to my feet Thick, hard and brown ledge Grasp with insecurity Pull myself atop the pages Greeted with words ten feet tall Yellowing paper Torn edges Dog-eared corners Fading ink My ripped gown drawn there Compare the delicate details Both fading to the colour of decay Tears stream down my face I look above me to catch A glimpse of the artist I lie on the page and wait For his gentle pen stroke My hand reaches from the page Touching his shoulder A distant sigh escapes his lips He smiles at me, his muse I walk to the mirror on the other side Stare into the reflection Trying to see myself with his eyes There in the looking glass Playing a sunbeam harp