What a beautiful color you are, what a unique instrument you are,
The sound you play intrigues my soul, whether it'd be your laughter, the sound of pure life or the sound of a smile in your voice,
The way you are kind and understanding with your words.
Oh pink trumpet, if only you knew the danger, the responsibility of just two words,
With so little meaning but such an impact that could effect so much,
Never once been spoken, but many times been thought.
Waiting for the accomplishment of letting you softly roll off my tongue, wishing for you to see the clues, of the signs of me desperately trying to make it not so noticeable,
But I bite my tongue, and let you first,
Even though, pink trumpet,
I am not okay.
YOU ARE READING
Desiderium
Poetry"hold the world but as the world; a stage where every man must play a part, and mine is a sad one." - William Shakespeare
