A Little Something
So I chanced to find a little something that I composed a few weeks back.
"I'm jealous," she admits, to
which he responds with
immense surprise and he
begins to walk towards her
from across the cerulean room.
"Why should you be?" he says, his voice
pertaining to the smoothness of velet. "You,
who make my days better with just
the ghost of your fleeting smile and
even in my dreams, I see you. With me
you stay until the morning - to which
in my awakening slumber I find myself
disraught when I discover it is
but an illusion. Yet I am content
for I know it is you that will welcome
my embrace when I see you face to face."
He takes a seat beside her as he offers
a fond smile, his eyes of
burnt umber crinkling with overwhelming affection.
"And so, my dear," he whispers adoringly as he
plants a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Why
should someone like you, feel
jealous?"
... Someone teach me how to string my inarticulate and discombobulate thoughts into pretty lines of poignant poetry.
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