A Breathing Fantasy
i create
a quiet midnight hour
around me all the time
and migrate myself
into a world of solitude...
where i feel your breath
down my neck tickling
myriad memories of your touch
sometimes in the real wee hours
i'm left all by myself
contemplating this notion of love
whether it's a fantasy i created
to survive myself in a barren piece
cut off from imagination
and the ability to dream
no, no, no...
screams my voice for
the oft repeated voice alone knows
the messages of love it carried
to you across the cruel
geographical spaces...
31dec2009
15.54hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Added by Poetry Lover
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