She is the rain on my parched heart
the reason of ‘fine-ness’ in my fine art
She is the words on my lips unsaid
the rhythmic tune bumming inside my head
She is the sun beam in my darkest room
the hand outreaching amidst all gloom.
She is the moonlight spread across the sky
the thoughts I focus when I’m high.
She is the hue I want to see
the kind of poem I want to be.
She is the letter wet with tears
the reality behind the mask I wear.
She is the tattoo upon my wrist
the crisscross lines I hide in my fist
She is the illusion that amazes you
the ashes of tears remaining few.
She is the place I always wanted to go
the spelling of a word that I’m yet to know
She is the distance I want to cover,
the fantasy of a dream from which I don’t want to recover.
–NightlyRantings
nightlyrantings 