Still

Standard

I do not want to know
what you are really like
(it’s safe to say that
utter ignorance is
utter bliss)
because with every new thing I learn
your image slips
like needles over the same groove
worn with being seen
I don’t want to run dry so soon
but it seems i may

I want to be still with you like
a lake in a breezeless sky
a wordless speech in a
soundless film
a motionless statue in a
personless room
that’s bliss.

kiss!

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry

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