I pray beneath streetlights
To find the light within myself;
I kiss holy books and letters she wrote
In the belief that life is sacred mystery.
Every day is an unknown journey;
Maybe our life will remain routine,
Maybe we will veer off into a nightmare or dream.
Perhaps, I’m shallow:
I only want to listen to music
And to smell the fragrance of her hair,
To exist in a place of flowers.
Anymore, I’m always on the verge tears
For no definable reason
And I can no longer discern
If I’m happy or sad.
If I disappear tomorrow,
It will be as if I never breathed
In this fragile place,
But a part of me believes
I’ve reached her heart
And touched her face.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/touched-her-face/
