Maybe you can't feel the skin
On your palms
But they are wrapped around your own throat,
Ivy chocking your forest.
A colisascope of stars spinning
Webs in your branches.
Sometimes I forget where we were.
How close we got to the moon
Before you remembered your roots,
How it was to be held down.
But when I feel the wind
I still hope it reaches your leaves.
I still pray you can feel the
Movement in your body.
I know it seems like a broken drum
But your heart is beating songs large enough to move oceans.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 10:31 PM UTC
Maybe you can't feel the skin
On your palms
But they are wrapped around your own throat,
Ivy chocking your forest.
A colisascope of stars spinning
Webs in your branches.
Sometimes I forget where we were.
How close we got to the moon
Before you remembered your roots,
How it was to be held down.
But when I feel the wind
I still hope it reaches your leaves.
I still pray you can feel the
Movement in your body.
I know it seems like a broken drum
But your heart is beating songs large enough to move oceans.
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