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Whose eyes do I keep seeing?
             Deep and dark,
                    Intelligent,
And this beautiful thing,
                 Sweet, soft, and smooth,
                      Delicate fibers,
A figure of beauty, a surreal gift,
              Fragile, frail, tiny,
                    Yet so very sweet,
This stained-glass vision and hopeful wanting,
           Where is she?
©2006-2009 ~NihilisticPebble
:iconnihilisticpebble:

Author's Comments

Just a little something I put together out of various scribbles in my writing notebook, refined into a single idea.

Comments


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:iconmothersky:
That was amazing. Amazing--so amazing--that I've been left breathless. * Favorited forever. *

Peace~

--
Perception is a nasty word.
:iconnihilisticpebble:
Thank you so much!

--
~The Nihilistic Pebble (just a bored and lonely mind)
:iconmothersky:
Your welcome :)

Peace~

--
Perception is a nasty word.
:iconkiralio:
Third piece of yours I've read; I think you've just earned a watch. =)

--
"Every man is his own hell." - H. L. Mencken
"Hell is other people." - Jean-Paul Sartre
:iconnihilisticpebble:
Thank you very much, good sir!

--
~The Nihilistic Pebble (just a bored and lonely mind)
:iconsister-sleep:
Ahh - I like this. Especially the line about stained glass. I love the way you tuirn the poem on it's head towards the end - something about the language suggests it's not a romance, but something more sentimental.

--
He's a boy, you wanna girl so tear off his cock, ties his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want,
:iconnihilisticpebble:
Indeed, this isn't truly a romance, though it has elements of that, but it's probably the closest accurate category.

--
~The Nihilistic Pebble (just a bored and lonely mind)
:iconstudpup:
this is really beautiful. i especially loved, "this stained-glass vision and hopeful wanting." personally, i might have ended it with, "where are you," but that's just more how i write. anyway, it's a really, really lovely piece. (sigh) lovely sounds silly, yeah? but it kinda fits :)

--
everyone stands alone at the heart of the world
pierced by a ray of sunlight,
and suddenly it is evening.
:iconrisnadra:
This is very very good. I love it.

--
Life is poetry without words.
Poetry is just life given words.

Details

October 29, 2006
1.1 KB

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