Gravely Downpours..
When pencil meets paper, Love, the thoughts of you dance upon their considerably familiar grave. Familiarity lies in the mind's eyes of reliving, over and over and over again. Oh so elegantly cherished. Oh so desirably missed. I think back on them fondly,
for I must choose my words in such a presentable fashion as to not chance blackening the memories of your essence through my written tears. Such a pity it would be to betray you; as if you lingered your presence with mine, if not only when it suited your benefit. Love, you have taught me well.
Though what proclaims you a worthy suitor of such a bleeding heart catastrophe?
Oh, but who requires worth when one offers understanding, a promised escape in an outstretched hand.
You never ceased the rain, only intertwined yours with mine. Such a lovely downpour of melodic heartstrings.
For who demands the sun when one rare drop of your rain possesses a smile the sun could not fathom overshadowing.
Why must I be left to mourn our death, when you no longer allow me to etch into a mere thought of your precious day? Days that lack our downpour, days that force me to cast my sparkless eyes upon the sun in your absence. Though, Love, it could never take your place. No, I am entirely certain I will always favor the cloudy days, for they are when I am most reminded of you, and everything you offered, everything we were.
They are when I plead for a downpour; if only for a blinking moment. If only you would return to me and cease the sun's mockery of your abandonment upon me. After all, the rain as well has become unbearable without your comfort, beating down memory after suppressed memory with every drop that cascades around me.
How did you so easily walk away, when I can so scarcely find the will to stand? Though, please know that I will never withdraw my hand; no, it will always remain awaiting your once sure, firm grip. The grip that I may only dream of in my most desired realm of sleep.
Until then, My Love, you can find me at our grave. Please, come take my hand; relive with me in the mind's eyes.
for I must choose my words in such a presentable fashion as to not chance blackening the memories of your essence through my written tears. Such a pity it would be to betray you; as if you lingered your presence with mine, if not only when it suited your benefit. Love, you have taught me well.
Though what proclaims you a worthy suitor of such a bleeding heart catastrophe?
Oh, but who requires worth when one offers understanding, a promised escape in an outstretched hand.
You never ceased the rain, only intertwined yours with mine. Such a lovely downpour of melodic heartstrings.
For who demands the sun when one rare drop of your rain possesses a smile the sun could not fathom overshadowing.
Why must I be left to mourn our death, when you no longer allow me to etch into a mere thought of your precious day? Days that lack our downpour, days that force me to cast my sparkless eyes upon the sun in your absence. Though, Love, it could never take your place. No, I am entirely certain I will always favor the cloudy days, for they are when I am most reminded of you, and everything you offered, everything we were.
They are when I plead for a downpour; if only for a blinking moment. If only you would return to me and cease the sun's mockery of your abandonment upon me. After all, the rain as well has become unbearable without your comfort, beating down memory after suppressed memory with every drop that cascades around me.
How did you so easily walk away, when I can so scarcely find the will to stand? Though, please know that I will never withdraw my hand; no, it will always remain awaiting your once sure, firm grip. The grip that I may only dream of in my most desired realm of sleep.
Until then, My Love, you can find me at our grave. Please, come take my hand; relive with me in the mind's eyes.
♠ ♠ ♠
Read my other poems if you want. :)