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Click hereThe only way to the heart is through, one's pain, shed
the armor, steeled fear of suffering. If it
were ordained, one last chance to lie with you
on the eve, of my time to fly a lone. Would it be
throes of passion, unbridled waves
dashed flight, defiant insanity chains
of this world.
Or the melding, stilled currents sink soft in embrace from
first meeting of lips, glistened, parting of ways
ours, recounted, all
before the sea.
What do you think? Perchance,
Do you know me?
This is a great poem. I recognise that there is some kind of metrical pattern going on here (I think, meter is a weak point with me, I can't 'hear' it). I love the pattern of enjambment. In recomendations.