There's nothing like holding someone in your palm and looking down at them
when they used to be so raised up and universes out of reach
that only when you finally turned your back and pointed your eyes at the ground
did they descent to walk amongst mere mortals and fall into your path
steps tripping feet as they open arms once gold-gilded, now bitter, scuffed and burnished
and no longer quite blinding enough for you not to see, unfeeling,
that they are not who you wanted them to be.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
There's nothing like holding someone in your palm and looking down at them
when they used to be so raised up and universes out of reach
that only when you finally turned your back and pointed your eyes at the ground
did they descent to walk amongst mere mortals and fall into your path
steps tripping feet as they open arms once gold-gilded, now bitter, scuffed and burnished
and no longer quite blinding enough for you not to see, unfeeling,
that they are not who you wanted them to be.
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