She doesn't know what to say.
She's floating above the ground,
below the sky; between these lines.
Paper sailboats.
Origami clouds.
Pipe cleaner caterpillars.
All that I was and all that she is
has washed away into places
the ocean hides and keeps at bay.
Today, its all new
and I'm lost but it's true,
in these dark caverned enclosures
lies a small simple statement.
A statement that's holding to
fact, like a glue,
And all that we are is diminished
to two
when we find our reflection.
Yet, not knowing who or why,
it's how we undo
our own imperfections,
our own self-rejection.
It's how they desire our very complexion.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment