Monday, September 20, 2010

Whatever Makes You Happy.

Does no one else notice
Rich irony in a butterfly's wings
I seem to shudder with the sheer beauty
In something so simple.

Hands folded,
I'm sitting quietly behind desks,
Mozart coursing through my veins.
When the ghost of a girl
Longs to throw fists into walls
And scream outside the lines.

You refuse to see into my soul.
Yet so plainly,
Yours is layed out before me.
I can see the cracks
In the deepest depths of your eyes.
Your insecurity mirrored in my tears.

Rushed words and
Sharpened retorts
Allow me to remember
Just how easy comatose sounds
To a broken girl.

Can you reach into my ash-filled lungs
Find the fluttering sparrow inside his rib-cage prison,
Play upon my heart strings,
And find a sound sweeter than angels?

I am human.
I ache for someone to see,
My potential for beauty,

Deeper than black holes.

You skim the surface with razored glances.

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