His eyes held colors of the afternoon sun,
shining through a glass of whiskey;
The summer breeze ruffled his obsidian hair,
and he had a habit of combing his fingers through it;
He towered over my stature as he called;
And to hear my name slipping from his lips,
I never even knew a word could sound so pleasing.
I had to crane my neck to look up at him:
A pair of silver jewelry adorning both his ears
made his rogue eyes look even sharper;
Yet the faint traces of smile lines
betrayed the mischievous look in his face;
And his tan skin, matching his usual dark tees,
Glowed faintly under the touch of daylight;
Even at a fair distance, I could surely tell:
He was trying to crack another of his lame jokes;
And he seem contented making people happy;
I knew then, angels must have decended on earth;
He was trying to suppress a grin along the way,
Then breaking into a fit of laughter afterwards;
And that sight was more beautiful than any sunset;
I couldn't think of anything that makes him unique,
But I always search for his face among strangers,
And always long for his voice in every lullabies.
He was every metaphor I weaved and wrote;
The subject of my poetry; always had, always will;
Made of moons and stars and galaxies combined;
To me, he was the entire universe.
ČTEŠ
Read My Soul
Poezie"Writing my soul in the form of poetry." They say if you'd wish to know more about a poet, you should read their poems - because that's where their hearts are poured into. This book is a collection of poetry (and prose) that I wrote to express all m...
