hush.
her smile: a lock sealed.
heavy, with the weight of hidden
pain; of
cruel, yet beautiful thoughts.
reaching out to the crowd that
lies beyond her bubble. a
barrier, that encases her
(that protects her from, who?)
bound by chains cast,
not by anyone but
her.
limitations,
ones that fortify itself for
a price of her tears.
but why does she,
with the silky, dark hair, the
full, inviting lips.
the eyes that speak for her, that
say: dance, like tomorrow is
yesterday’s affair.
with hands, a delicate cold,
that call to your warmth,
feel so far; seem
as if her shell of
a skin,
and only that,
moves to the rhythm of an
ethereal song.
the picture of her,
a silhouette against the
rose-pink sky,
with clouds that would vanish by
a soft breathe; beautiful.
she’s on a hill,
staring at something only
she can see.
ironically, it’s only from so far away her
anguish is so clear, in
a photograph, taken
in secrecy.
:ultimately:
the sunshower seems to almost embrace her,
as she finally shatters it:
her bubble.
rain runs down the sides of
her fair face; tears,
as her eyes, dancing no longer,
gaze outside.
you’re standing there,
telling her she’s not alone.
so she shows you her smile,
a genuine smile:
hollow.
One Last Time
didn't you hear,
understand,
while we knelt,
fear pressed,
like fingertips,
into the curves of our spines,
with,
your hands reflected in our eyes.
the room remained silent
as we begged,
screamed,
with our minds numb,
looking through empty eyes to see
cracks in the mirror
contorting the picture (once perfect)
of you to reveal a
twisted,
wicked,
thing.
our fate.
didn't you see us
hands intertwined.
my warmth against her's,
a barrier of ice.
didn't you realise,
as they approached your door,
as you sat there, sipping your tea
in victory.
i have defied you.
one.
last.
time.