We started out
driving through a
mellow April,
consuming southern tea,
soaring into the
bright sky.
Our love, jubilant,
luxurious as the
Bugatti Veyron,
beautiful as
unconscious rhythm.
We are the fist inside
held tight around our hearts;
alive.
We end at sunset,
where thoughts begin.
The car sways like a
child's red swing. Cold stabs
the air, wind stampedes through
my hair, whipping your face,
kissing me as the sun breaks.
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Author's Comments
NaPo 18
I am not satisfied... Should "stabs" be "pangs" instead? (I've been using punctuation and such in my last two poems, but don't get too comfy, there is a reason I used it.) |
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Comments
--
Married to the pen,
and we're both having an affair
with the page.
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
Married to the pen,
and we're both having an affair
with the page.
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
held tight around our hearts;
alive.
i actually really love this one.
i think 'stabs' works better than '
but no idea what.
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
hmm... frosts? laces? touches? scatters? breaks?
dunno if breaking the air is the image you want, but.
Or shatters, maybe?
<<throws ideas>>
I hope I was helpful.
I like this one a lot, too. ^^
--
Watermelons.
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