i.
The world through your eyes
is horrifying.
Why are the colors so intense?
Is that the blue that I see?
Your memories rose-tinted,
and it is as if you are lying
to the world and yourself.
I can not see, the things that you see,
and you are turned away.
ii.
I fall in love
with the way you shape your words,
letting them build up in the hollows
of your skull, pressure
And releasing it like a sigh
slow and steady and dragging it out,
eyes cast above toward the sky
You hate it. (You shouldn't.)
iii.
she is the queen.
she calls forth their darkness
with a curl of her fingers, on a whim,
beguiling with soft smiles and looks.
they go to her, pleading
breathless prayers, crippling fear
broken bodies crumbling foward
like puppets on her lonely, metallic strings
and she is beautiful, and never human.
iv.
Her sister sits in the shower all day
all her clothes on,
slumped back with a lopsided smile
typing her life out,
one letter; one key at a time.
v.
he carves statues, but not too long after
their cold, stone skin starts to flake away,
cracking over where it stretches over
their marble, too thin, hollow bones.
(icy smiles, stretching fingers
crumbling into mountains of rubble
and the dust on the ground.)
perhaps it is mercy
that they are not mortal
and cannot cry.
(At what?)
**A/N
You lucky people get another update! I also changed the formatting of Being Human so it isn't too troublesome to read.
