A simple thing, really.
Confirmation of what I knew
a beautiful ghost
form unimportant
soft-skinned, long-fingered hands
cradle my world
as the fires in ghostly eyes
burn me down
hold me fast
watch me rise
on wings of that which burned me
spirit made new, made strong
I feel like I was drowning
in a lake of shattered glass
Dark blue mysteries
Swallow me whole, push me under,
Wrap me in ice, close my eyes to the storm.
I saw you in shadows
Your eyes were an illusion
and I thought that I looked deep
Into tiny suns.
A golden miracle, shining cliche
Lift me up and onward, bear me to the shore,
take my hand, show me the way.
We are not so different.
We both have mothers and fathers
Friends and lovers
We used to walk to school together
When you would tell me everything
And I would never talk.
I'm talking now.
The words are spilling over
From the boxes I have stuck them in
Each bottle, crate and barrel
Bursting with the pressure.
You don't talk to me anymore.
You are angry, distraught.
I weep at the loss
And my tears fall silently
Breaking straight sunbeams
Into every color of the rainbow.
Current Residence: the crossroads of Nowhere and Somewhere Favourite genre of music: Filk. Folk or Celtic is good, too. Personal Quote: All dreamers need to flourish is a little rain and light....
I'm hoping this will get rid of the advertisement, or at least move it down the page. If it doesn't, you get to read me talking for a bit. That phrase doesn't make much sense, but what can you do.
...I'm not going to put a journal here. I have a livejournal for that.
I am. however, going to thank you for looking at my profile page, and hope that you have a nice day/night/venusian year.