An Open Book

You came into my life with a royal exquisite desire,
Wanting to elude me into the volcanic eruptions,
And you never cease with your continuous thorns,
As if a deafening rusty motor on an endless fuel,
Feeding the empty fireplace with heat to produce
A magnificent emotional formula; but only to –
Wound my delicate young heart and to interfere
With my mind emitting voices of iced immaturity,
And yet, I listen attentively to the vast collection
Of stories, of senseless memories, of aching cries.
These passionate calligraphy weighing this paper
Down are but a chance for you to understand me,
To open your adorable mesmerising brown eyes,
To move the curiosity within your delicate fingers
As they keep striding on my ticklish feet leisurely
Moving towards my knees and my concrete legs.

Friday, 17thof October 2014

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