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khanslikPoems
These things all have the tendency to bleed into one another; I spill the contents of me into every tiny thing that breathes, plant my seeds in your mouth and watch them grow from the smallest whispers of "maybe" to the warm sticky ooze of knowing what the future holds. My home is not here, it is drifting on the horizon somewhere and I think I'll find it when these tendencies wrap themselves up and I begin putting pieces in the right places. I think my purpose has been calling my name all along, but I didn't recognize the sound until I took everything softly in my hands and laid it all out the way it should look, I'm spelling out the new meanings behind my eyelids and it comes out in vibrant colors that stain your fingers when you try to grasp them. Late nights are nothing if what becomes of them is half as beautiful as this. My hands may not always know the proper delicacy that they should, but they know to break open these dreams to grow new ones, and I know how to better hold even the the most slippery of promises now - wrap up these worries, I will mute them in ghostly grays and wrap ribbons around their boxes. My fingers tie the knots and I am chasing new horizons.
0
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
new horizons
These things all have the tendency to bleed into one another; I spill the contents of me into every tiny thing that breathes, plant my seeds in your mouth and watch them grow from the smallest whispers of "maybe" to the warm sticky ooze of knowing what the future holds. My home is not here, it is drifting on the horizon somewhere and I think I'll find it when these tendencies wrap themselves up and I begin putting pieces in the right places. I think my purpose has been calling my name all along, but I didn't recognize the sound until I took everything softly in my hands and laid it all out the way it should look, I'm spelling out the new meanings behind my eyelids and it comes out in vibrant colors that stain your fingers when you try to grasp them. Late nights are nothing if what becomes of them is half as beautiful as this. My hands may not always know the proper delicacy that they should, but they know to break open these dreams to grow new ones, and I know how to better hold even the the most slippery of promises now - wrap up these worries, I will mute them in ghostly grays and wrap ribbons around their boxes. My fingers tie the knots and I am chasing new horizons.
#home#horizon#fingers#hands#knots#life#leaving#growth#colors#hope
Written by
khanslik
24/F/Ohio
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
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