Was so fragile-
She could be cut by callused palms.
Could be bruised-
With the stroke of her makeup brush.
Lays so sound-
She could wake up to the car door slamming in the garage.
She is so thin-
Light shines not just through her eyes-
But through her chest, hips, lips, and-
No warmth is transferred through her kiss.
She breaks like hardened mud.
You could sink into her like quicksand.
Her body, is built like a storm.
You can watch the blood in her veins-
Meet your fingers at the surface-
You can still see what you have drawn in the morning-
If you can even crawl out of bed to crack the blinds.
She likes thunderstorms.
She likes the smell of dirt.
Her eyes were gray-
And her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth.
She can dance in the sun-
clumsily-
And still be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.
She could sing-
Off key-
But her emotion is what makes those notes gold.
She lays like stone.
She moves like running glass fast forwarded.
Her voice is thunder-
And her eyes are the winter.
She lays hands on you-
Only to heal.
She can mend you-
as easy as bending a wire coat hanger.
Her skeleton is like flint-
How it sparks against mine.
Her body is so fragile-
A word could hurt her.
and a stick or stone-
would certainly **** her.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
Was so fragile-
She could be cut by callused palms.
Could be bruised-
With the stroke of her makeup brush.
Lays so sound-
She could wake up to the car door slamming in the garage.
She is so thin-
Light shines not just through her eyes-
But through her chest, hips, lips, and-
No warmth is transferred through her kiss.
She breaks like hardened mud.
You could sink into her like quicksand.
Her body, is built like a storm.
You can watch the blood in her veins-
Meet your fingers at the surface-
You can still see what you have drawn in the morning-
If you can even crawl out of bed to crack the blinds.
She likes thunderstorms.
She likes the smell of dirt.
Her eyes were gray-
And her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth.
She can dance in the sun-
clumsily-
And still be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.
She could sing-
Off key-
But her emotion is what makes those notes gold.
She lays like stone.
She moves like running glass fast forwarded.
Her voice is thunder-
And her eyes are the winter.
She lays hands on you-
Only to heal.
She can mend you-
as easy as bending a wire coat hanger.
Her skeleton is like flint-
How it sparks against mine.
Her body is so fragile-
A word could hurt her.
and a stick or stone-
would certainly **** her.
Request permission to use this poem