Under the ember's light, you spark,
From the bottom to the top, a heart you will crack.
The spikes like dew on my skin,
My kingdom will be the same, even if my margins become thin.
You are my glade and I'm the tree you protect,
In one murmur we connect.
I often hate the way you make me laugh,
I tremble with the fear of the frequency,
If everyone comes against me, I promise I'll show my decency.
I see all of them in one picture,
I'm inside your glass, holding my bubbles from giving you a wistful lecture.
I always see you although my lifetime is dim, but you are a scripture.
So perfect in a way which makes me fear that you will fly,
A woman like me, full of wounded history, and scars on a back,
I'm terrified that I might meander your lack.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond The Glass
PoetryBeyond the Glass is a poetic storytelling about two people who find each other and promise to stay together until the door closes, but the walls between them are large. The poems are written from the woman's point of view. They capture her raw hone...
