Lips are made for kissing, she said.
But these lips have never been kissed with the love of a savior on these dark nights
Hands are made for holding, she said.
But these hands have never been held aside from the afraid little girl sitting next to her
Hearts are made for missing, she said.
But no heart has so much as missed a beat looking for her love
Promises are made to be broken
And all of the unspoken promises hurt the most when they come shattering down like broken mirrors
So I asked her
If lips were made for kissing
And hands were made for holding
And hearts were made for missing
And promises were made to be broken
Then why do harsh words spill from my lips like scalding soup onto the feet of unexpecting victims
And why do my hands make these cuts on my very own skin as if im cutting a cake that bleeds blood as red as my sins
And why does my heart lock itself into a cage as if its a prisoner in its own mind, chain itself to my soul in an inexcapable cell
Please, tell me why the promise of pure anger, pain and suffering is left inside of me with no escape. can you tell me that.
She looked at the ground and smiled
Your lips, Your hands, Your heart and Your promises
Are those of a survivor
Cherish them, for they hold beauty unbeknownst to those who have not felt pain
But still, you were made for the purposes stated above and you must believe it.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
Lips are made for kissing, she said.
But these lips have never been kissed with the love of a savior on these dark nights
Hands are made for holding, she said.
But these hands have never been held aside from the afraid little girl sitting next to her
Hearts are made for missing, she said.
But no heart has so much as missed a beat looking for her love
Promises are made to be broken
And all of the unspoken promises hurt the most when they come shattering down like broken mirrors
So I asked her
If lips were made for kissing
And hands were made for holding
And hearts were made for missing
And promises were made to be broken
Then why do harsh words spill from my lips like scalding soup onto the feet of unexpecting victims
And why do my hands make these cuts on my very own skin as if im cutting a cake that bleeds blood as red as my sins
And why does my heart lock itself into a cage as if its a prisoner in its own mind, chain itself to my soul in an inexcapable cell
Please, tell me why the promise of pure anger, pain and suffering is left inside of me with no escape. can you tell me that.
She looked at the ground and smiled
Your lips, Your hands, Your heart and Your promises
Are those of a survivor
Cherish them, for they hold beauty unbeknownst to those who have not felt pain
But still, you were made for the purposes stated above and you must believe it.
