Poetry

Descriptive at best

There's a warm air in the freezing cold.

A breeze that chaps your lips and leaves them tasting like poetry,
sweet yet slightly bitter like an almost dead rose
laying at the feet of what you've written as a 
sacrifice to your thoughts which you cannot get a hold of
swirling around your head like a hundred clouds
out of reach and impending doom in stormy skies.

Still you try to form the words that sit on your fingertips,
almost causing physical pain as they want release
each word becoming a drop of blood flowing through your veins
a tiny bit of the life you have in you
welling up as the text appears  before you
creating what you only hope will be received well 
not fallen like an Autumn leaf
destined to waste away in nothingness
until along comes a solitary soul
coaxing from it life.

Reviews

[Blogger]

Very well described! That really says it doesnt it? We all feel that, but you really put those feelings into words.

[Victoria Mae]

Thank you very much :) I think sometimes the writing of mine I like the most is when it feels much like this one, a gushing release of words.

[Blogger]

That about says it. You manage to put complicated thoughts into discernable words. That is impressive.