allysa-elios

They say that a poem Is part of the soul That the person who made it Passed on If so, does that mean That most of my soul Has been given to you All along?

Written yesterday, for my Literature class this coming Tuesday. Topic: Objective Correlation. X.o.X You know what it should look like White, pristine – pure And yet, it would catch your eyes And make you so unsure An eyebrow raised, “A lily?” Its structure, it would seem But everything else is different Except its stem’s green The ridges across it were drenched in dew And moist it was to touch And like freckles that had captured your heart The insides were lined with spots And like the way she opens up And stretches to see the sun It also stretches across its arms Until its time is done You can&#8217

An old, forgotten poem that never made its way to get published in the paper I write for.  X.o.X Was it ever really yours That which you have never held? Only in my sleep, I’ve touched Your gentle hands and calming breath   The very scent of you overwhelms My heart aches and leaves me breathless Through your whispers you even seem to clear All of my darkest moments   But alas, when my eyes open Your sea-green eyes aren’t there Neither is the scent of the sea, Or morning dew, or breath of fresh air   Yet I still can’t help but feel it Your hands entwined in mine Or the way I’ve ta