Velvet Eyes Crying In The Rain

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


we met at a dance from the back of the auditorium alone you were there caressed your hand with my glove as a maiden flower that you were crisp clear day until the rain came then she was beside
herself engulfed from the tender memories of when she was but a little child honey bees with the melting of the blowing of the breeze hearts next to me she grew sad now that the rain came down with
her velvet eyes crying with tears of remorse hopless said she in her land of make believe filled up her dreams life is but a mystery draped across the tapestry of sullen apathy a challenge to be
free was a question of time she yawned in disbelief now filled with sorrow se could help but feel sorrow then the tears flowed again lest i refrain simple pleasure with simpler times with a plate
of chesse a some store bought wine billows fell beneath the squeeky wheel exposed to the very mere notion of laughter tears became a mountain filled with pillows of desolation thoughts of her
jewelry box a wooden drawer with socks amids the moth balls for this humble no it all she is gone now in passing she sometimes comes to me in a dream with beautiful flowers sweet perfumed
personifications laced with white ivory emblems to taunt then I awake to nothingness keeps me in great suspense until now that I'm old let the truth be told of decorations in the parlor with grey
cat sitting on a wooven mat for I remember the place and will remember the time I held her in my arms to embrace



Now shallow peaks align the ridge where I treasured a red rose that was plucked a time ago nestled bellow near the cobblestone a wooden structure with a broken hand let the reader understand...
thoughts of pop rocks with loli pops filter through my fragile egg shelled mind I'm going blind ave a sip of coffee and give my foot a push, Remembering simpler times with crazy door bell chimes
with nursey rhymes it has become customary for me to stare at the barren wall with long ago bullet holes to enhance my imaginative thought pattern braided hair she used to wear with a touch of
blush for make up when she was in a rush yet now I awake to what ?

Submitted: November 30, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 30, 2017

A A A

A A A


we met at a dance from the back of the auditorium alone you were there
caressed your hand with my glove as a maiden flower that you were
crisp clear day until the rain came then she was beside herself
engulfed from the tender memories of when she was but a little child
honey bees with the melting of the blowing of the breeze hearts next to me
she grew sad now that the rain came down with her velvet eyes crying with tears of remorse
hopless said she in her land of make believe filled up her dreams
life is but a mystery draped across the tapestry of sullen apathy
a challenge to be free was a question of time she yawned in disbelief
now filled with sorrow se could help but feel sorrow then the tears flowed again lest i refrain
simple pleasure with simpler times with a plate of chesse a some store bought wine
billows fell beneath the squeeky wheel exposed to the very mere notion of laughter
tears became a mountain filled with pillows of desolation thoughts of her jewelry box
a wooden drawer with socks amids the moth balls for this humble no it all
she is gone now in passing she sometimes comes to me in a dream with beautiful flowers
sweet perfumed personifications laced with white ivory emblems to taunt
then I awake to nothingness keeps me in great suspense until now that I'm old
let the truth be told of decorations in the parlor with grey cat sitting on a wooven mat
for I remember the place and will remember the time I held her in my arms to embrace

Now shallow peaks align the ridge where I treasured a red rose that was plucked a time ago
nestled bellow near the cobblestone a wooden structure with a broken hand let the reader understand...
thoughts of pop rocks with loli pops filter through my fragile egg shelled mind I'm going blind
ave a sip of coffee and give my foot a push,
Remembering simpler times with crazy door bell chimes with nursey rhymes
it has become customary for me to stare at the barren wall with long ago bullet holes to enhance my imaginative thought pattern
braided hair she used to wear with a touch of blush for make up when she was in a rush
yet now I awake to what ?


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