Poetry ll

Tragedy in human form. No comedy to cheer me up, No white to my black. The darkness eating me up from inside. The spotlight all mine. But talents are imaginary friends. I can't kiss dance, nor hug music. I can't tell these stanzas I love them. But maybe I can kiss you. Through my words, and my work. Your dazzling, soulful eyes, How they look at my lines Maybe I can hug you, My lines wrap around your being Your skin, so rough, so soft. How gentle you are with my words. My tears into resentment of cupid, and of me. My flame of hope simmering out Embers disappearing softly.