Why is it hard sometimes,
feeling so different and so
capable
yet your lips barely speak above a whisper.
Where your spiraling eyes see
through the disguises we play our lives behind.
And yet you hang your head
all the same, as if starlight
wasn't shining from within it all.
Your life,
as broken shards of
smiles trying.
As voices clash and
messages spiral out of sync like
two blades
spiting the screws that hold them tight.
And rust they will,
your eyes if closing them
feels better.
For a bitter taste settles on
tongues that hope to dance
yet barely dare to step
beyond their teeth, they quiver.
And these footsteps that find you
lost amongst the promise
of empty bottles you have found.
I wish to hear them,
your hidden breaths from under
what slender cheeks you turn,
to the ground.
From what pages your
lashes spark
and spring from as the world
whispers wonders in your ear.
The trickling words
that tickle you
to smile.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
Why is it hard sometimes,
feeling so different and so
capable
yet your lips barely speak above a whisper.
Where your spiraling eyes see
through the disguises we play our lives behind.
And yet you hang your head
all the same, as if starlight
wasn't shining from within it all.
Your life,
as broken shards of
smiles trying.
As voices clash and
messages spiral out of sync like
two blades
spiting the screws that hold them tight.
And rust they will,
your eyes if closing them
feels better.
For a bitter taste settles on
tongues that hope to dance
yet barely dare to step
beyond their teeth, they quiver.
And these footsteps that find you
lost amongst the promise
of empty bottles you have found.
I wish to hear them,
your hidden breaths from under
what slender cheeks you turn,
to the ground.
From what pages your
lashes spark
and spring from as the world
whispers wonders in your ear.
The trickling words
that tickle you
to smile.