Uttermost

You may say you don't
but you know me; of me
and my swelling quiet
 
and they may say
over and over
in a low rumble
not to write of love
I know, I know
 
I close my eyes
the sanguine lids
like a heart
throbbing 
 
In ink it spills
brims over like tears withheld
and stains the stark white page
 
your whiskers at dusk
the fine lines in your lips
Your eyes drip like jewels
heavy and sparkling 
 
This smudge of words
I would die in
if I could not write 
what I cannot speak

Author's Note

Thinking of changing the title from Uttermost (I liked the word play on utter) into Ink Spots on Paper. Some feedback on what you guys prefer would be nice! Thanks for stopping by.

Reviews

[An owl on the moon]

What a shadowed beauty you breathe out here... the words as moving, waking lyrics unmatched. If you wish to stay with Uttermost, you might simply change the last line to read: what I cannot utter, so the play on words is not lost. Love your writing.. always have.

[Sorry Infamous]

Thanks for taking the time to stop by Craig and thank-you for the input on the ending to the title. I appreciate it.

[An owl on the moon]

Just thrilled to see you back.. your voice belongs here like birdsong.. :)

[Sorry Infamous]

*blushing*

[LJW]

Beautiful. Especially the last stanza.

Typo....youR lips......

"my swelling quiet"

Excellent.

[Sorry Infamous]

D'oh! Thanks :)

[LJW]

Uttermost would be my choice of the 2.