Poem- “Diary”

“Diary”

An idea suggests that women can extend so many hours further.

It’s like a globe we’re seeing flying objects from, stars to stars.

Wind takes itself upon her schedule as pigs look on.

She understands the meaning of faultless acquirements.

Earth views her from the polluted light- that is, we give color, etc.

More than anything we’re at her glee into other related hands.

Hours go on and on.

Few more seconds, a missing touch.

The air covers a lady’s outside glance for the inside that counts.

Just a touch here and there keeps her at bay for reflections to note.

Another face passes her disappearance on temporary notions, ice.

Careers matter little towards whatever fine tune to speak of.

Links are broken up into chains under her gaze for disruptions.

Visual styles arrive momentarily, that is, within the means of inquiry.

Girls fall at her feet because the secondary paints vanish.

Eyes are seen in her own eyes, including hers.

Men answer the reasons too soon.

Objects to women become the tainted structures of discipline.

So many poems can answer the riddle.

People come upon these women like they do for pink elephants.

Nothing is that real in her; in fact, she’s more than a collection of parts.

Magnetism brings together her disputed figure.

Usually it’s a soft note, a soft touch.

Favorites are under way during the commotion for exhaustion and speech.

With her nose following less thoughts than feelings, something gives.

Her ultimate expression is the drama behind another curtain.

In the grave look on her face we find discoveries of voids, more un-findings.

Emotions tangle with ideas along vague beliefs for show.

As it stands, that’s a woman to me and a whole lot more.

https://www.deviantart.com/gameuniverso/art/Diary-795172538