i drip my arms over your tired shoulders.
my hands cascade down your paper-thin back.
you're always crying.
and you're terrible wings tremble, but my dew-soaked fingers are
nimble
and unkind.
this is why no one can love me.
my heart is ill and beating with the strength of a
dying light.
pulsing off and on and off and on.
i carry scissors.
while i hug my poor self,
i clip my wings with the ease of a
psychopath.
there is an end somewhere
but not here.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
i drip my arms over your tired shoulders.
my hands cascade down your paper-thin back.
you're always crying.
and you're terrible wings tremble, but my dew-soaked fingers are
nimble
and unkind.
this is why no one can love me.
my heart is ill and beating with the strength of a
dying light.
pulsing off and on and off and on.
i carry scissors.
while i hug my poor self,
i clip my wings with the ease of a
psychopath.
there is an end somewhere
but not here.
