It pains me more than it should
They have torn you down so much
Your hair isn't blonde.
It is the color of sunshine
At the end of the day
When it has just barely begun to set
Your hair isn't like straw
It is gold
Thousands of pieces of gold
Embedded into each strand so carefully
Your lips aren't red
They are the color of cherry blossoms
Right when they bloom
And the lightest pink covers their petals
Your lips aren't cold
They are perfect for my lips
Soft and gentle
Against my skin, they spread warmth
Your eyes aren't brown
They are copper pennies
Wrapped up in honey and
Dusted in the showers of stars
Your eyes aren't muddy
They help me see clearer then ever before
Guiding me with the light they hold
Your eyes are something else
You are not what they say
You are not as simple as they want you to be
YOU ARE READING
Whispers Of Our Soul
PoetryWords are the lifeline that connect my heart to the world. This is a collection of my 2am confessions and my 12pm ideas. Told from the viewpoint of my struggling mind, my broken heart, my wild soul, and my screaming mouth. "Distruggi quello che ti d...
