Tilting your head, a look of puzzlement
Shrugging shoulders, touching your forehead
Eyes looking down, covering mouth
Standing there with your hands behind
Swaying your fingers, pulling the strings
An innocent voice we hear
Believing each word it says
I see my reflections in your eyes
There was a smile drawn on your face
Convincing me to believe that everything is perfectly painted
Allowing me to stay with you
Making me feel uneasily safe
Though, after all these mess
My trust's still yours
YOU ARE READING
the archives from batch no. 823
Poetrya collection of unsaid thoughts, archived in my mind and now written in words.
