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.
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
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.