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julia-lowPoems
Nights caress me with softer subtleties, to lull insecurities into restless sleep. Tossing and turning is bad for the soul, bed sheets, twisting around legs, creep into nightmares of suffocating solitude. Darkness surrounds me with quieting conscience, thoughts seeping through deafened ears, from days of listening, onto blacketed pillows, which only wanted shelter from countless tears cried through years of reddened eyes and bleeding hearts. Sparks fly like rocket ships to remind me that second chances only come to those in love, showered in towers of rose buds and daffodils, be them weeds or strange symbols of white dove affection, raining on all stuck unguarded, sans protection.
0
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 2:14 PM UTC
sans protection
Nights caress me with softer subtleties, to lull insecurities into restless sleep. Tossing and turning is bad for the soul, bed sheets, twisting around legs, creep into nightmares of suffocating solitude. Darkness surrounds me with quieting conscience, thoughts seeping through deafened ears, from days of listening, onto blacketed pillows, which only wanted shelter from countless tears cried through years of reddened eyes and bleeding hearts. Sparks fly like rocket ships to remind me that second chances only come to those in love, showered in towers of rose buds and daffodils, be them weeds or strange symbols of white dove affection, raining on all stuck unguarded, sans protection.
julia-low
Written by
julia-low
American
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 2:14 PM UTC
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