I am the fluttering image of perfection,
Both, all-knowing and surreal.
I dance upon the lush green blades if lucidity-
In the haze of silence, light and unreal.
My gown, white and benevolent, you see,
Vivid and clear, unlike the rest of me.
My hair a black blot- A mysterious thought
That shrouds my face, you know of not.
You hear my giggles,
Carefree in bliss,
You see my smile,
and my palm outstretched.
My voice is silent,
but my words are erratic,
My lips, they speak,
Yet, nothing but static.
You grip the pen to write this down,
This dream you had without a sound-
But in the ink upon that page-
The sweetest of dreams are drowned.
YOU ARE READING
Birds in Glass Castles
PoetryMy collection of poems through the last few years in some of their rawest forms; more steppingstones of my journey as a writer.
