She’s not a typical beauty,
Hers is painful
It’s overwhelming, haunting.
Eyes of the palest green,
Satin gloves, translucent shields.
She’s a glider, she floats,
Never settles, never stops.
Her words are fragile ribbons as they tie me up.
You’d give mostly anything to save her wouldn’t you?
Yes.
She’s so delicately wonderful,
If there’s a god he loves her.
She’s a bird who’s feathers are as exquisite
As the bruises that stained her skin that day.
She has been free falling for a while now,
But she’s not there yet.
She needs to know that love is what is left
When everything you have has been stolen and your own emotions are no longer yours.
That’s when you know you’re loved.
When you and they have pulled each other through a hellish cloud of tears and blood.
And though your clothes are red and wet,
In their eyes you’re wearing the same green satin that your eyes and wings are made of.