That crazy curly hair,
The baggy jumper,
Those ridiculous freckles,
Those earthquake eyes,
That beautiful hurricane mind.
I want to wrap that chaos in my arms,
Hold it tight till I feel every feeling
It has felt. Every tear, every ache,
Every thing it has known,
I want to know.
Why are you so special?
How can something broken be complete?
Why would, if I only had hours left,
Spend them staring at you?
Why do I see more light in your darkness
Than an unborn angel’s heart?
I could spend eternity opening
The strange doors of your soul,
Igniting its dark rooms,
Its virgin alleyways.
Your voice
Is like an art that can never
Be painted because there are no colours
Able to describe something so colourful;
I want to frame every sentence you speak,
Gaze into its sadness to heal my scars.
Your eyes
Speak more scripture than religion,
I see lost wars won,
I see gates of Babylon,
I see martyrs waving banners,
A thousand forgotten stories are in
Those eyes,
They sip my soul like a cheap drink,
My cup is emptied by every blue stare,
My heart is crucified by their silence;
A beautiful cold hell I want to be
Tortured by for eternity.
But don’t mistake my poetry
For love. I don’t love you.
Love is too simple of a word.
Sheamonspeare 