The manifestation of quiet is humbled within her presence,
Let me remake silence with her,
She is me, I am her.
Feet pressed together like children as we erase the colours of my emotions and paint with the greyscale of doubt.
She is a stranger,
Living under the roof that is my skull,
Sleeping in the bed that is my brain.
Blow out all the candles,
She tells me I'm too old to be so shy.
The silence I hold within my brittle bones will make a dwarf of your quiet.
Let me remake silence.
And watch the ground crack.
YOU ARE READING
Raw Emotions
PoetryContradictions are my addiction, Let me carve into your ribs the words that my lips fail to form, I refuse to be anything but greyscale, scrubbing the colour from my skin to feel a sense of belonging within this vibrant world. Too much, Not enoug...
