(From my book titled Falsely Accused)
The chilling winds
in wintertime sing hymns
of happiness and light,
that only those willing to fight
through the relentless cold
can stand to hold.
I look to my left and see
her sitting there. She,
with eyes soft as Saturn's
rings and bright like lanterns
in the dark, but mind and
heart stubborn like Neverland
never ever is and never
even wanted to be. Sweater
hanging lazily from her pale
shoulder and happiness there,
still something hid behind her wonder
that she hides under
her sheet of dark hair. Ribs
stick out at odd angles like stripes
under her skin. Makeup stains
her already beauty and remains
a barricade. Her head turns
my way, and my lips yearn
for her's always. She smiles
and her wondrous laugh glides
smoothly into the frigid air.
She asks why I must stare,
then covers her face
with as much tragic grace
as a free flyer. And I wonder
if she sees what thunder
just her existence can create.
Or if she secretly hides hate
for herself deep inside her mind
so that only she can find
in moments alone. Maybe
the winters silent beauty
failed to notice her through
the barrier she drew
herself. Maybe the winter
saw the truth and the splinter
put there by time's unforgiving
vastness. She is cold like living
snow, but not in a bad way.
Ice shields her from the sway
of windy torment and greed.
She's the bad girl in tweed
and a plaid school skirt,
but not in a bad way. Dirt
smeared or rain soaked, she
remained my only need.
She's crazy, insane if you will.
This way, I hope she stays, until
both her and my finial days,
and any time that may still remain.
~ Abby🌹
YOU ARE READING
My Poetic Attempts
PuisiSo many times I've found myself sitting behind a computer screen, Completely avoiding the disappointed stare of life as I waisted mine. Watching people speak with such genuine passion, Such confidence, Made me want to do the same. To inspire people...
