i kissed the clouds with my pen
waiting for some sort of inspiration
this afternoon
im sleeping in Sabbath
tucked away in solace
my cave is warm 2 seasons out of the year
too hot for some
but my skin has become tough in this climate
ready for its abuse
the only scars i wear tell stories i'm not ready to share
so i cover my skin with poetry
dirty similes look beautiful at a distance
and this pain
taste like candy
trouble
like her lips
perfect
like her fingertips
we are all just too perfect to even notice
No comments:
Post a Comment