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Hues Of Lifted Despair. by =Ameas-Qua:iconAmeas-Qua:



Small moments of tiring descretion,
harmonies of historic despair,
seem to linger between the glass.

Behind the viel of my own
immoral self pity,
the clouds seem to fade behind the sun,
if only for a moment.

many fine moments,
written in the gazes of longing,
broken sonnets lingering in the stale air.

Conversations of nothing,
dancing around the hope of everything,
one moment of clarity amidst the fog's viel.
©2005-2009 =Ameas-Qua
:iconameas-qua:

Author's Comments

For her,
thought of on a train, written on a bus reciept,
put onto my computer, yesterday.

It's hard to write/create when i'm happy.
Seems all my talents comes out of my despair and or disguist with the world.

I have nothing to be sad about lately,
no reason to complain.

i find myself slightly unmotivated.

I saw a cat playing with a bush today, it made me smile.

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:iconameas-qua:
discretion

--
Ameas Qua.

Details

July 16, 2005
607 bytes

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