Post by stupidxgirl on Sept 17, 2006 22:16:05 GMT -6
A/n: Well, this really isn't that good, I didn't have the time to make it what I wanted it to be sadly, cause I think it coulda been great. I was inspired by this book called " Suzanne's Diary For Nicholas" by James Patterson. It's a very sweet and incredibly sad book. But it was also inspired by my friend Chris, the names are real, the story is almost exactly the same, just some of the book is throw in as well. I may work on it some more eventually, who knows. This is the first poem I've written and posted in months, so comment all you want. 
Dear Jane,
I guess it was hotter then I remembered,
but everything smelled the same
and the wood floors grooved under my tired feet
like they had so many times before-
And they sang,
these old walls-
sang me songs of you and me
spread over sheets of beautiful musical
numbers (1-2-3, possibly 4).
'Oh god,
give me one more sway
over and under and through
these old walls.'
I guess the leaves fell slower then
I thought they were going to this fall,
when I closed my eyes they pounded
the ground like a heavy rain,
but when opened they were lighter then
feathers.
It reminded me of how your hands
would glide over my rough skin-
softer then any two ply toilet paper
I had ever felt.
And I thought I saw your shadow one night
In the setting suns of our beach cottage.
I smelled your roses,your sour doe breads,
I smelled your coffee and that sent you radiated
after the hour long showers you loved so much.
God, I sigh so heavily-
(Years...)
These lonely years have done nothing-
I still see us dancing
through the walls you painted blue,
like the sky.
I still hear you laughing,
and singing and praying at the side of the bed
where you always fell over your slippers
in the mornings.
And I guess it's colder then I remembered,
but the fire still tries to warm the same
and the blankets still do their best
to cover these tired bones
like they always did those nights with you.
And they danced-
those perfect flames,
they danced across the walls and pictures
of your beautiful face.
Right now,
I wish you were here more then ever
my lovely Jane.
the seasons changing somehow
don't seem as priceless now.
(Just one more day,
right?)
'I'll make my way back to you.'
Forever your's,
The lonely man- Chris.
Dear Jane,
I guess it was hotter then I remembered,
but everything smelled the same
and the wood floors grooved under my tired feet
like they had so many times before-
And they sang,
these old walls-
sang me songs of you and me
spread over sheets of beautiful musical
numbers (1-2-3, possibly 4).
'Oh god,
give me one more sway
over and under and through
these old walls.'
I guess the leaves fell slower then
I thought they were going to this fall,
when I closed my eyes they pounded
the ground like a heavy rain,
but when opened they were lighter then
feathers.
It reminded me of how your hands
would glide over my rough skin-
softer then any two ply toilet paper
I had ever felt.
And I thought I saw your shadow one night
In the setting suns of our beach cottage.
I smelled your roses,your sour doe breads,
I smelled your coffee and that sent you radiated
after the hour long showers you loved so much.
God, I sigh so heavily-
(Years...)
These lonely years have done nothing-
I still see us dancing
through the walls you painted blue,
like the sky.
I still hear you laughing,
and singing and praying at the side of the bed
where you always fell over your slippers
in the mornings.
And I guess it's colder then I remembered,
but the fire still tries to warm the same
and the blankets still do their best
to cover these tired bones
like they always did those nights with you.
And they danced-
those perfect flames,
they danced across the walls and pictures
of your beautiful face.
Right now,
I wish you were here more then ever
my lovely Jane.
the seasons changing somehow
don't seem as priceless now.
(Just one more day,
right?)
'I'll make my way back to you.'
Forever your's,
The lonely man- Chris.
