in my dreams i vocalize the low, floating scenes
playing this summer out. like being drunk
for the first time in front of your first crush,
the sounds are at a druggy climax; all i hear
are waves rolling by a coastal house in Spain,
the shrill of children at play in a white wake,
the quiet of her toying with my hair, her voice
wondering where i've been all these years...

here; listening to innocence speak in soliloquy, saying:

"i've had too much to drink, go run and hide.
perhaps there'll be a time for the shores to whine
with every wave of love that waves good-bye,
but tonight isn't it. so rest in peace."

perhaps that's right,
maybe i did have too much to drink.
whenever i do, i tend to talk in my sleep.
and those who've heard me tell me
that i say the silliest things,

and i agree.
here, My Dear, here it is
Last edited by SubwayToVenus at Aug 10, 2011,
i can take that. i agree with you that theres something missing, not only in this poem but in most of the poems ive written. wish i knew what it was though. cant seem to break through..
here, My Dear, here it is