Apr 2014
I have this friend who lives in between my lungs
and decides to whom and how I show expression.
As my breaths grew larger, the space for her shrunk,
so she moved away.
She waits upon my sleeves preparing itself to pounce
unto the sleeves of another.
She attempts to jump but those people who have the nicest and thickest sleeves
always walk away watching as she falls to the ground and shatters.
She is too dependent. I must teach her to love herself;
she does not see the beautiful things she already has.
Those people with other long sleeves have their own problems,
they can’t handle her's.
She is too gullible.
I feel pity for her, for she will never be loved.
and decides to whom and how I show expression.
As my breaths grew larger, the space for her shrunk,
so she moved away.
She waits upon my sleeves preparing itself to pounce
unto the sleeves of another.
She attempts to jump but those people who have the nicest and thickest sleeves
always walk away watching as she falls to the ground and shatters.
She is too dependent. I must teach her to love herself;
she does not see the beautiful things she already has.
Those people with other long sleeves have their own problems,
they can’t handle her's.
She is too gullible.
I feel pity for her, for she will never be loved.
This was my feelings of the day. If you have not deciphered this the way I have, my little friend is my heart. I just wanted to write something about my feelings today so pardon how sloppy it is. Another thing I wanted to point out was that when I say with other long sleeves, that signifies mostly because of the type of the people who always were long sleeves are those with secrets beneath them. I am stating that is my type. Thoughts please?
