i'll stand within the shards,
of my smashed heart,
i'll play your game of cards,
but now where do i start?
when the fire's eaten every bit i used to be,
when the shards are slicing my lungs,
the fires eaten my eyes so i can no longer see,
and now i can't even speak in tongues.
what will i be,
when i wake up ten years older,
will i see the sea,
the sea surrounded by a boulder?
will i see hazel autumn green,
of my reflection in the glass,
eyes that actually show where i've been,
or my feet in the grass,
when i stand in the snow,
when i watch my life slide out of view,
or will i simply never know,
through all the years that were tinted blue.
i watched myself hold the gun,
i watched the fire die,
and i lost all the fun,
but yet i would never cry,
i would never cry for someone i can never believe,
i wouldn't for your touch,
or every word that you use to deceive,
or every word held within your clutch.
YOU ARE READING
Kalopsia.
ПоэзияKalopsia • Noun ; The state in which everyone and everything looks beautiful. ✧一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 一一 and here the words will bleed onto the page of each separate chapter in my mind, and the words will fall so effortlessly out of my eyes. 一 一一 一一...
