Her voice like a song
Running its fingertips through my hair
Ivory chords and wind blowing
Orange-coloured like that of dawn
Soft like a laugh and syrup
Her music isn’t just noises, and all along
It twists and dances like spells in the air
Emerald notes and feeling flowing
Blue-coloured like the sand and sea’s bond
Sweet like love as you try to keep up
She swings bright and long
Skipping in the sky with me, kind and fair
Quartz singing and so much heart showing
Violet-coloured like the rest of them, gone
Short like time we have, siphoned from our cup
But I’m a cacophony compared to her song
It’s all just noises and all along
I cry when I fall, harsh and long
I’m a cacophony when compared to her song
But I can’t hear the music playing in my hair
It’s angled and tripping over all of the air
I see what she sees, but it’s mean and not fair
I can’t hear the music that plays in my hair
But I fail and it’s dusk when she is the dawn
It’s low tide and the water breaks its bond
I run and I scream and my sound is gone
I fail and it’s dusk when she’d rather be dawn
But I prefer plain and not sticky sweet syrup
It’s hard to try but I must and I cannot give up
I wish for a drink, but from my still empty cup
I am quite plain and not sticky sweet syrup.
Jan 30, 2025
Jan 30, 2025 at 10:32 PM UTC
Her voice like a song
Running its fingertips through my hair
Ivory chords and wind blowing
Orange-coloured like that of dawn
Soft like a laugh and syrup
Her music isn’t just noises, and all along
It twists and dances like spells in the air
Emerald notes and feeling flowing
Blue-coloured like the sand and sea’s bond
Sweet like love as you try to keep up
She swings bright and long
Skipping in the sky with me, kind and fair
Quartz singing and so much heart showing
Violet-coloured like the rest of them, gone
Short like time we have, siphoned from our cup
But I’m a cacophony compared to her song
It’s all just noises and all along
I cry when I fall, harsh and long
I’m a cacophony when compared to her song
But I can’t hear the music playing in my hair
It’s angled and tripping over all of the air
I see what she sees, but it’s mean and not fair
I can’t hear the music that plays in my hair
But I fail and it’s dusk when she is the dawn
It’s low tide and the water breaks its bond
I run and I scream and my sound is gone
I fail and it’s dusk when she’d rather be dawn
But I prefer plain and not sticky sweet syrup
It’s hard to try but I must and I cannot give up
I wish for a drink, but from my still empty cup
I am quite plain and not sticky sweet syrup.
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