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Glass heels glide over the cold marble steps
Blood smears from the deafening footsteps
They scratch them with a screeching halt
And instantly forget about their broken faults
Their whispers travel down skinty legs, ingraining the stone
And such whispers turn to thundering stomps when they are alone
Catching all the moments of murmurs they can during the dances
Haunting waltzes that simply exist for piercing stolen glances
A few fall on the pool of red, adding their own through the peeling wounds
Ivory veils of ignorance that always come unbound
Under indigo clouds, they attempt to clean the stains off the satin
Burying it beneath wildflowers with the scent still latching onto their skin
I'd rather be the obsidian heading down the dingy dungeons
A gloomy stairway rather than someone's crescent delusion
I'd rather cover myself with the darkest soot and the grimiest mud
Than ever drown again under their melancholic floods
Both of us hide beneath gashed scars
Yours gleaming black peppered with dust
Mine shaved off to mask their bootless lust
Both of us sit silent under loud steps
Yours sturdy under sweaty bare feet
Mine hurting from crystal shoes of deceit
Oh, now they come to scrub the dried blood again
For the hundredth time making it into a smooth terrain
Mists of envy and admiration intertwine for you
Yet, who am I but another dreamer trying to escape the truth?
-Grisha. S
YOU ARE READING
DROPS OF SCARLET
PoesiaFeatured on @WattpadPoetry reading list 'Stygian Skies' "I dream as a soulless spirit where the only music I hear is the drops of scarlet" This poetry collection follows the tales of three women lost in the past and objects they surround themselves...
