some days the pen shakes
some days the sky shivers
and i can't see the moon bathe the backs of my hands
but i'm still okay.
some days my sight blurs
some days my breaths burn
and the eldest trees fall in the eye of the storm
but i'm still okay.
some days your lips still
some days your tongue slips
and maybes screech like harpies at the gate
but i'm still okay.
some days our minds fall
some days our space fills
and blackness towers and stabs in our skulls
but we're still okay.
sort of.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
some days the pen shakes
some days the sky shivers
and i can't see the moon bathe the backs of my hands
but i'm still okay.
some days my sight blurs
some days my breaths burn
and the eldest trees fall in the eye of the storm
but i'm still okay.
some days your lips still
some days your tongue slips
and maybes screech like harpies at the gate
but i'm still okay.
some days our minds fall
some days our space fills
and blackness towers and stabs in our skulls
but we're still okay.
sort of.
well, i can pretend.
