She marches to no beat-
a purpose seemingly incomplete.
If she challenges her every breath,
is she not obsolete?
I can't say that I don't understand.
Weaving bruised patches on a quilt
with a jagged stone in each hand
is enough to fill a riverbed with blood.
*With such an affinity to this bed of rocks,
who am I to judge?*
But you.
There is nothing more to hate
in agreeing that you hold such a fate.
If a smile is the only emotional currency,
how can you not shine brighter than gold?
She marches on against the current.
She wades in the winter wanderlust.
She is a beacon of cerulean light,
and a cup of warm coffee
on a red eye flight.
The ice sheet that covers your bones
is the warmest blanket
on a winter night.
If the gate is ever open,
I'll never cease to highlight
your tranquilizing, infinite light.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
She marches to no beat-
a purpose seemingly incomplete.
If she challenges her every breath,
is she not obsolete?
I can't say that I don't understand.
Weaving bruised patches on a quilt
with a jagged stone in each hand
is enough to fill a riverbed with blood.
*With such an affinity to this bed of rocks,
who am I to judge?*
But you.
There is nothing more to hate
in agreeing that you hold such a fate.
If a smile is the only emotional currency,
how can you not shine brighter than gold?
She marches on against the current.
She wades in the winter wanderlust.
She is a beacon of cerulean light,
and a cup of warm coffee
on a red eye flight.
The ice sheet that covers your bones
is the warmest blanket
on a winter night.
If the gate is ever open,
I'll never cease to highlight
your tranquilizing, infinite light.
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