Evocative of, but Only Moderately Neurdian-esque Disposition

Final poem about you.

You.
You bestow your essence upon my need.
Tenderly caressing my desires,
Hastily digging your sword into quixotic hope. 

You.
You are not a “you” at all to me.
Just a mere concept I entertain,
A dithering of reason aspiring inspiration.

You.
You are the ink inside my pen.
Bleeding out onto words unwritten,
Smearing through lives you aren’t living.

You.
You are a dream.
You are a dream and I,
I…I don’t sleep.

Eyes are open, mind’s awoken.
Too aware to fall victim to the sway of your despondency.

And so,
As you are You,
As I AM me,
We’ll see all that we see— independently.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s