Why does beauty
so pure so true
have to be so red tinted

Love always precedes the pain
Isn’t that how it always goes?
Why can’t I just reach out to her
Caress her heart to sooth my own
She sits so close angelic beauty
yet she’s not mine, nor any man
For such a heart roams free
The shackles of love would hold her down
Her wild heart, once chained now dances in freedom
Tis not my pleasure nor my power to take that away
yet still, there she sits, My angel on such a night
Hair on shoulders, eyes closed in nights blissful sleep
Shall I reach out a hand and take hers?
Nay, I do not possess the will to do so..
I will not awaken her from her dreams,
Her heart plays free in the confines of her mind
Yet could her troubles be chasing her
And my gentle touch to more good than evil?
Alas, my soul burns with envy
My arms burn for her touch
yet dream or mare I do not know
Maybe not ever, for such will is only in the possession of hero’s
And a hero is not what am I.

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Filed under: Poetry - @ October 25, 2009 5:13 am