Dec 2013
The stars look down upon the layers of raindrops that lay across the pavement.
The moon is wide awake tonight, keeping me company as the stillness of a sleeping world takes over.
Pathetic dreams mixed with nostalgic misery poison the oxygen I breathe in, and the haunting thoughts that plague my mind at midnight keep me from seeing the back of my eyelids.
What becomes of the repressions that fade to the back of my memory?
Another senseless worry.
I lay awake with this troubled mind that knows no release but the words that only pour so easily through ink and not through my vocal chords.
They say beauty is pain, but I say that pain is beauty.
You see these paintings that form to my flesh, once created with crimson paint on a clean canvas.
I took shame in the presentation but failed to read into the plot.
The stories that art portray, are such a beautiful thing.
I'll read you my stories, written legibly on my skin, in hopes that your eyes are open to the morals.
I shift my eyes to the light and try to muster up a smile, but I can't shake the image of you from my head.
The rain has come down hard, and a storm is brewing.
But even with the thunder, it is still a sound to lull you to sleep.
To induce subtle dreams of everything that tomorrow can be.
The skies will clear as they do after every downpour, and darling I'll be your umbrella until the sun shines again.
Just keep breathing.
Let me lift the weight from your shoulders, please.
I would be honored to take the chains that ensnare you, binding you at your feet.
I want to see you run free.
My soul doesn't break easily any longer, and can withstand so much more than it used to when I had encased it in ice, leaving it vulnerable to snapping at the simplest tap.
But loneliness can still draw a tear from these tired eyes.
I buried my heart some time last December, when the world became a shadow.
And sometimes I miss it.
Because on my quietest night, even the moon is leaving me now.
And as I watch this painful night turn into a pink sky, another hopeful sunrise, I wonder what this new day will bring.
-k.d.
The moon is wide awake tonight, keeping me company as the stillness of a sleeping world takes over.
Pathetic dreams mixed with nostalgic misery poison the oxygen I breathe in, and the haunting thoughts that plague my mind at midnight keep me from seeing the back of my eyelids.
What becomes of the repressions that fade to the back of my memory?
Another senseless worry.
I lay awake with this troubled mind that knows no release but the words that only pour so easily through ink and not through my vocal chords.
They say beauty is pain, but I say that pain is beauty.
You see these paintings that form to my flesh, once created with crimson paint on a clean canvas.
I took shame in the presentation but failed to read into the plot.
The stories that art portray, are such a beautiful thing.
I'll read you my stories, written legibly on my skin, in hopes that your eyes are open to the morals.
I shift my eyes to the light and try to muster up a smile, but I can't shake the image of you from my head.
The rain has come down hard, and a storm is brewing.
But even with the thunder, it is still a sound to lull you to sleep.
To induce subtle dreams of everything that tomorrow can be.
The skies will clear as they do after every downpour, and darling I'll be your umbrella until the sun shines again.
Just keep breathing.
Let me lift the weight from your shoulders, please.
I would be honored to take the chains that ensnare you, binding you at your feet.
I want to see you run free.
My soul doesn't break easily any longer, and can withstand so much more than it used to when I had encased it in ice, leaving it vulnerable to snapping at the simplest tap.
But loneliness can still draw a tear from these tired eyes.
I buried my heart some time last December, when the world became a shadow.
And sometimes I miss it.
Because on my quietest night, even the moon is leaving me now.
And as I watch this painful night turn into a pink sky, another hopeful sunrise, I wonder what this new day will bring.
-k.d.
