Aug 2014
The ink stains my hand;
where your hair had always been
Paper, white, bites my skin;
your fingers caress instead
Look away, the sky is my refuge;
its blue {your eyes pierce my skin}
Eyes shut, listen to the music;
but its your voice there instead
*(please, gods help me;
its always you instead)
where your hair had always been
Paper, white, bites my skin;
your fingers caress instead
Look away, the sky is my refuge;
its blue {your eyes pierce my skin}
Eyes shut, listen to the music;
but its your voice there instead
*(please, gods help me;
its always you instead)
Starting to really wish I could do font changes. Imagine all the bold print is also a good 4 points smaller. I really don't think the last couplet was as good without being smaller, like the tiny plea it is. Oh well. Enjoy.
