Your skin was flawlessly stitched
with flowers
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but, my hands only felt the thorns.
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I was just a ballerina in a music box
to you;
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who only twirled when
you sang lyrics that you didn't mean.
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The box might be embedded with diamonds
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but, the chains of luxury aren't leaving enough
room for me to breathe.
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I plead you to set me free.
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Please.
YOU ARE READING
Mood Board
Poesía❝Pictures that bleed more words than your lips would ever say.❞ (#27 in poetry on 09/08/2016) [© Quotes are mine; the pictures aren't.]
