The light broke my eye-windows,
and I saw you lying beside me,
with a smile on your just-awake face,
your soul walked into mine,
and pulleyed my heart closer to you.
Millions of miles apart,
yet I feel you so near,
I could hardly catch a breath,
as your breathing hugs me,
and your heart-arms capture me.
Lying with her, I wonder,
are you thinking of me,
in my wild bed of roses,
full of thorns and pricks,
waiting to kiss your tortured soul.
For this morning, at least,
you have me in my mind-arms,
drunk in the water of love,
taken hostage by your crazy eyes,
and the sun in your red hair.
Little Tragedies in the City 
>Very nice, Mila. I wish I could put words together like that (regardless of anything I said about poetry on BC).
thanks, paul. I surprise myself sometimes, too, I guess when inspiration comes, you just gotta go with it. Dont be modest, I think you write well, too.
>Poignant, passionate, and sad. Beautifully expressed, Mila. I suppose the poem, like the fantasy, is its own joy and consolation.
Yes, nothingprofound, as writers, we find consolation in being able to articulate our desires and urges, but still, the yearning still cuts like a knife.
>As always~ just beautiful. I am struck by your words and am sniffling while reaching for a tissue now. Reading this hit home for me and a situation I am dealing with.The yearning does cut like a knife; for me it is an open wound. One day I hope I can heal it.I ❤ ya girl. Write on!
@ladeana Im so sorry that you can feel the pain like for me. Its really tough to have to yearn for something you can never have. But the only thing we can do is to move on and as writers, try to turn that pain into a moment of crystallised beauty for others who share that same pain.