Wednesday, February 4, 2009

whisper

The sun rose, the sun set. What I saw would stagger most. If I knew how to apologize for beauty I would, I don't. Staggering to find my feet, struggling for breath, I wonder if what I saw was true. No such beauty could be marked with paint and brush, no such stride could be replicated. The whisper, the moan, the kiss, the neck, leaves me feeling naked. Let me whisper once in that ear and I am sure I will make a fool of myself.

2 comments:

kevin gilmore said...

hey dude. we met at bar 4 late night in brooklyn one time. I swore to you I'd make a blog for you. And it seems it has been keeping true. say hello sometime. and keep writing. you haven't posted in a while...

Patrick said...

Your right, I haven't been in a writing place for a while. I have not checked back here in too long. Sometimes too much life gets in the way of too little writing. I owe you for opening the alley for my ramblings. Let me buy you a beer the next time I'm in NY. I should be that way soon so leave me a way to contact you. E mail, facebook, etc.