Your voice is a pale yellow, said the boy who
Etched colors into sounds. What he didn't say was that her
Loneliness dyed it that color, and that mosaics
Like her are much more that that; but she can't see herself as art.
Only a broken heart sewn together by shaking fingers,
Whittling away on a train to somewhere.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
Your voice is a pale yellow, said the boy who
Etched colors into sounds. What he didn't say was that her
Loneliness dyed it that color, and that mosaics
Like her are much more that that; but she can't see herself as art.
Only a broken heart sewn together by shaking fingers,
Whittling away on a train to somewhere.
