Hey... Feel free to brutally critique me. ;D
Such soft, bittersweet dreams,
of laughter and puddles.
of eyes that scream for the kiss.
Eager for a shared moment of bliss
The sensual grip of her hips,
the feeling of finding that,
Passions caught, locked,
by the hour,
this sugar-coated mood,
starts to turn sour.
The subconscious mind,
try's to make one feel bliss,
making acidic lies feel like the touch of lips.
Try's to say, "take your time, unwind."
To the forgetful waking mind.
But these serine dreams vex me so,
and it pains me to know,
that somewhere asleep,
this sensual puddle of sentiment.
In truth I loved it,
as much as I loathed it.
For to awake,
her eyes not burning for mine,
silk soft legs not eager to intertwine,
conversation meager to shine.
Then the dark room,
that it was all fake.
The safe place to put the heart.
Not one moment was real,
and only fleeting images of a gorgeous girl remain.
by some lonely part of the brain.
As if her mirage were made real,
from dawn, till dusk.
And not the woman of lust,
whom left me behind in the dust.
I dream of you,
I write of you,
and haven't even talked to you,
for four long, lonesome, months