“New Orleans”

Each time I blink, you’re the afterimage I see.
True beauty, wrapped in the
cloth of essence, held upon your body by seraphs.
When trumpets blare, the streets are
flooded by archetypical lovers, their
bodies in unison with the music filling the cool air,
masks shrouding their identities from everyone around them.
The truest of masquerades.

Within an impulse, my heart removes
from within, which you, in turn,
place inside a box, of which
is written a description, a map of our lives
from the moment we first affixed to each other.
Our own storybook.

Tales of epic struggle, cohabiting
with stars crossing through the Heavens,
guiding me to you, my Juliet.
For it is not death, but every rise of
the sun and fall of the moon
that brings me closer to my deepest ambition.
To spend the remainder of these festivals with you.


About Robert L. Franklin

Ah, the About Me section - social networking's excuse for you sounding like an elitist prick. Hmm... what to say? What to say?
This entry was posted in Springtime In Atlantis and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s