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juniper jones Oct 2017
They never had and I don't think they could ever again. It's not just the parts of my body that I use to tread on, to continue on foot when the rest of me can't catch up. Everything has outgrown such commodities; my legs, my hands, my neck and head. I got taller with a straighter back and a chin raised high to show that no fear runs through these thriving veins - a fear that is nonesuch to the person that rises with the waves of orange and pink, that pour onto the wide unknown above but is restless when the night spills black ink with specks of white. The clothes on my back have ripped at the seams with a tear so loud and big, the hands that once cared couldn't sew it back together. The silver needle with the sharp tip, pricked at their hungry, outstretched hands saying, "Don't touch because the wounds you left are deep enough". This head so full yet so empty. These old shoes don't fit like they used to because they have been tugged on, the heels crushed by another, and their once tied laces frayed with the tip split open like a mouth with no tongue.

I cannot give you more when I have nothing of my worth that I want to lose.
you're a lot stronger than you believe.
juniper jones Oct 2017
no matter where i look my eyes seem to find you
in the crowd of many
amongst the plenty
you are there and so am i
but the space between is unsurprisingly wide
i don’t want to let the words that once thrived
within
begin
and continue

so stop your looking
because i'm trying not to find you
and i know you aren't trying to find me
stop your staring
your eyes draw in more than they should
and mine push away what they can't bare

because i found myself thinking about you too much

not a lot but too much
in the context
of too much too full
too little too soon
i found myself thinking about you too much
and i don't know what to do
Oct 2017 · 291
volume.
juniper jones Oct 2017
it's the simplest fact
easing through my cracks and caves
but unbeknownst, a bittersweet act
the thing i want, the thing i crave
the words i want to be said, to be saved

can you hear me in my silence?
Oct 2017 · 334
pools of gold.
juniper jones Oct 2017
of pools of brown
and irises of gold
your eyes were the sweetest i've known
so serene, yet hid the roughness
tucked with secrets and stories
they held a softness

of pools of brown and-
irises of gold
your eyes were a truth
they were the coolest
they were the warmest i've ever seen

their own sun
a comfort
o' how your eyes
were magnets to my words
the inner most depths
of my virtue

— The End —