She begins to float, she begins to fly,
She'll always laugh, just like she'll always cry,
She may fall down, but she'll love the fall,
She lie on her back, taking in it all.
Wet grass on her back, and her mind far away,
Stars above her eyes as she's begging him to stay;
She just wants to feel something instead of being numb,
She doesn't care if keeping his company is worse than keeping none.
She's floating more, and she's floating away,
She kept to herself and she pushed him away;
She lies in her bed, no wet grass on her back,
She falls over more, but her vision is all black.
She can't feel her tongue, but she can feel him,
She'll wait til she's floating again to let him in;
Her brain is so foggy, but she never thinks straight,
Her head is always elsewhere as of late.
She's floating, she's flying,
Always laughing, always crying;
She's falling, she's falling, she falls so far,
Back on wet grass, head with the stars.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
