The Beauty of restlessness

(How I write when getting little sleep)


It's rare; but it happened, and when it did, she caught me by surprise. As she crossed my path, I couldn't help but want to know her. We were pulled in the same direction for a reason, and although our bodies did not touch, she could feel my heat and I her coolness. Her silence was subtle, her eyes as bright and luminous as any star in the sky; yet hers casted mere glares, and yet I was able to stare in to them; in to her. Her translucent skin called to me; her mystery beckoned me and no words were exchanged; yet our energies spoke louder then words. I could hear melodies sing as she smiled her bright smile; I could see the dancing all around us and yet it's like no one else existed time merely stills once our eyes capture each other, we are one; we are alone; we are some how united and although the universe has set us greatly apart she still circles me ; dances around me. She is this lovely mystical being that I can't decipher and yet she says the same about me; cause although my heat burns outward , her fire burns brightly with in with this cool disposition that I can't resist. She calls me when morning breaks; I call upon her when day light is almost quiet.
It's as if we are coexisting and yet we are not we are completely in two different time zones; two different entities, fire and ice , day light and night, I the sun; she the moon and If you were to look up at the sky her beauty would definitely entrance you.

(Another)


We dance this dance together; cat and mouse; and it happens every so once in a year. Yet our loneliness afterwards consume us. She becomes this cold person that I can't help warm the inner cores of her. I become this blazing fire unable to dim my light long enough to let her in. It's like a tug of war every so slightly we touch yet we don't touch at all. It's always silence, always quite; no it's deafening, dreadful, oh dear moon of mine why so bright your light, yet there is never an invite to look with in you; you who always calls me; and I who always call upon you. We beg each other for the other to some how rescue the other and this vast sea called the universe never seems to give us a break, so man and woman can unite as one. What is the cause of this affliction, is this a test; is this to punish; I detest this longing; this yearning; this emptiness inside me; yet you; you never seem to be missing out on anything. You seem so full of light; and yet many consider you hollow; hollow and bright but you stir much emotion in so many that even I cry late at night as I'm left in the shadows of what you are and how you bring those to question; those to dream.
She; she who is beauty, she who shines; she who unites all as they look up to her; she who is elusive and amazing in her wonderful cloak all dressed in white, she is the moon, a beauty that even my own words can't define.

(This is my favorite)


Sitting incased; I walk up to this beautiful body; I undo the latch , and pull back the lid, the figure of it, like the number 8; long neck bearing strings, mahogany skin, and I beautiful base that no one can deny.
Slowly my fingers brush upon the smooth texture; nicely polished, delicate , yet firm to the touch, I look at it in awe as I slowly trace every curve with my finger tips. With both hands I slowly pick it up, by the neck and turn this body around; beautiful and exquisite it was put together the craftsmanship..... words could not explain; yet here I attempt to; but I'd have to say that as I look at it face to face, words fail me in truth.
I slowly touch the strings, and a soft yet a low note plays, a single note; a preview and I must touch and play. With my right hand I shoulder this lovely instrument, with my left hand I grab the bow. I cradle it on my shoulder, slowly place my chin to it, bring the bow up and lay it gently on top of the strings, I slowly play the first note and close my eyes, to allow my fingers to interpret what it is that moves me inside, and I let this lovely instrument sing.
Every slow and lovely painful memory mirrored on it, and yet the lovely melody continues to sing. No matter how gut wrenching it is this feeling I feel inside that causes me to tense up and then relax; play in to the violin and then sway as I delve deeper; this lovely being just seems to give ears this soft approach of all that is pain; all that is longing all that is with in and even as my tears fall upon her skin; she never paints an ugly picture. She moves you with her song, makes you press your lips together as you try to hold back your emotions; yet she has you engaged; entranced; she has you holding on to every story she is telling; yet through me she's coming alive and she makes sure to pay her respects by becoming one with me and as my fingers continue to touch her lightly and the bow is writing for me; all that I've been holding on to is now released and through her my pain it projected and now you see why I say words fail me because I can never really describe how she truly allows me to be free.

Posted by sunnyvirgo83
I am completely wrong about you Sagitarians. You are a beautiful poet!!! LOVE LOVE LOVE THEM! I think I'm in love!!! you have a way with words! 🙂

Thank you; glad you enjoyed and liked it _??

What classical music moves inside me;


It was a night I will never remember. The time was twilight; the streets isolated and from up top I could see the isolated streets, for it was too cold. There she stood, near a window looking out, and up at the sky, long Raven hair, ivory skin, she was to me an angel; I the devil; I think of her beauty as my savior. The thought of me holding her in my arms awakens this hunger inside me; this dark sinister being, that tarnishes and destroys all it touches and I quickly hide in the shadows for fear of being sought out.
I damn this curse; damn the blood that runs through my veins. To love for me is to to kill; and if my love was to ever fall upon her delicacy; I'd be sure to destroy the very thing that brought me an ounce of feeling, that warmed me; causing the numbness to disappear.
Why was I looking out from above at the same time when she was looking out her window. For she has become, My angel; my queen, my prey.

Her Name Is Agony


From a distance I heard the song of a shattered heart; and it's song only spoke to me. A wave of slow painful cries that only I could tame; and still it never called me out by name. The soul is what beckoned me with this fire that burned like a raging beast and still only I was the one who could put it out. It pained me; dragged me , made me bend backwards, making me drop to my knees. It's name was agony, and agony had no mercy; it was this anchor that pulled me further in to the abyss of this black ocean where I had lost all sight and could only play things by ear.
Agony, she never held me; and I always attempted to hold her; but her rage was far to much for me to hold restrained in one place. She was too quick to strike; too quick to spit out poison, yet she never called me by name. Her soul was like black onyx and she tried her hardest to make me see; this as no magic, this was agony raging inside of me.