I'd like to lay in the grass like I used to,
Back when innocence lit my eyes from the inside
And shone through my being like a thousand stars in my skin.
My stars got lost inside my veins somewhere along the way,
When I invited charm to sit with me, and
Traded in grass for soft matresses
And innocence for sin.
My weatherworn skin tore, and everytime
My stars leaked through the cracks leaving scars like comet's tails.
They only shine for a short time,
Until they're just a story that you hope someone will want to hear someday.
But my bones are poking through in too many places,
For anyone to believe I'm anything more than fragile.
And everyone's afraid to get too close.
I'll wrap myself in lace and paint my eyes white.
The dirt under my nails will fall away.
But I can't hide the hollowness in my chest,
Because nobody notices that thump-thump-thump
Until it's gone.
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 9:03 AM UTC
I'd like to lay in the grass like I used to,
Back when innocence lit my eyes from the inside
And shone through my being like a thousand stars in my skin.
My stars got lost inside my veins somewhere along the way,
When I invited charm to sit with me, and
Traded in grass for soft matresses
And innocence for sin.
My weatherworn skin tore, and everytime
My stars leaked through the cracks leaving scars like comet's tails.
They only shine for a short time,
Until they're just a story that you hope someone will want to hear someday.
But my bones are poking through in too many places,
For anyone to believe I'm anything more than fragile.
And everyone's afraid to get too close.
I'll wrap myself in lace and paint my eyes white.
The dirt under my nails will fall away.
But I can't hide the hollowness in my chest,
Because nobody notices that thump-thump-thump
Until it's gone.
© February 21, 2011 Moriah Jean
Someone told me to write about innocence, so of course, I wrote about the lack of.