We scratched the sky
With pennies in our finger tips
And we'd strip back the layers
'Til we found universes seeping through
We'd thrown away careless dreams to the stream
Not minding if they didn't find their way home.
We nursed the clouds with vapour-clad knuckles, the ghosts of raindrops marring our skin
Yet we brushed away the weight of hail with the happiest tragedies, a montage of bittersweet memories
A taste of sunlight dripping from our words as greys were removed from the shadows
And we tickled the grass with gentler hands
Hair caught in the net of shamrock
And giggles danced with fireflies
When the sun slipped into a blanket of darkness
We huddled in blankets, cozy as our soulmates' hugs
We whispered now, the only crime was to break the low hum of the wind
And the gentle rattle of dry leaves, engaging in a clumsy social dance
We dreamt of the stars that decorated our minds, skybound or otherwise
In our subconscious we realised
That we needn't find universes in the Sky
When our universe was under blankets
And snoring besides us.
YOU ARE READING
The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known
PoetryI write poetry and use writing prompts and start stories, chances are they'll be one of three things: simple, artsy, pretentious. All of them will be pretty bad. Bad art is better than no art, though, and more people need to let themselves make bad...
