She was the object of my infatuation.
She was everything and nothing.
and she was perfect.
in every-which way
my god, she was perfect.
She walked on clouds and winked at the moon.
She danced amongst the shadows through June.
and she was broken.
in every-which way
my god, she was broken.
She touched the ground like golden silhouettes.
She sang away my last trace of cigarettes.
and she was beautiful.
in every-which way
my god, she was beautiful.
She had long and slender hair that hit the light at intervals.
She had wells of tears that flood through my walls.
and she was kind.
in every-which way
my god, she was kind.
She had a voice that sold sweet sorrows through paper trails.
She had a breath that weathered my storm through every exhale.
and she spoke.
in every-which way
my god, she spoke.
But when winter's longing cast a spell .
And her dreams no longer fit my well.
She was gone.
in every-which way
My god, she was gone...
And now the object of my infatuation she remains.
for paper dragons and perfume
Her ghostly figure here she stays
with freckles
that kissed our moon.
YOU ARE READING
The Truth Embarks a New Beginning
PoetryWhen you feel like there's no way out, life laughs and toys with your pain. But, when pain is built on top of pain, the doors of mockery close, and you can walk out into the world, with a newfound understanding and acceptance of what shit you have o...
