A Prelude To A Falling Out

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The title was somehow adapted. Here is a poem I decided to write for the pleasure of my five senses. I hope they felt what I intended the poem to be felt. And to you, dear reader. I hope you get it as you go along,

Submitted: February 26, 2008

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Submitted: February 26, 2008

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I sometimes wonder if I was made with five senses
Of which I can feel, hear, taste, smell and see at the same time,
Like reminiscing your soft cheek against mine,
Your carressing hands on my rough palette,
Your pristine name serening my lips,
Your laugh gathering in my lungs,
And the stringent of your smell
Wafting in the arena of my breathlessness.
You made me feel these in a dose of a day.

And I compared these to yours.


You whose eyes turn bleary at the sight of me.
You whose touch senses weakness against my skin.
You whose hearing goes deaf at the sound of this sin.
You who tastes sour at every word I say.
You who smells suspicion inside every lie I made.

You said, you'd rather be dead than be left to die
with her not beside you.
And I begin to wonder,
Will I also suffer and die in repose,
to someone who I owe nothing but a prose?


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