The sleeves of yesterday become the ones you wear today,
Archaic and tattered.
The smile plastered on your face begins to look like a clown's,
Red and upside down.
The blood fluttering through your veins slows, and slows, and slows,
Until your heart is but a winter wonderland laced with flowers and fantasies.
Blue become all your sunshines and cloud nines.
The morning glory outside your window freezes like time,
Falling apart, petal by petal, wheezing.
It speaks for what words cannot capture and songs cannot express.
The snow builds up, like the solitude that follows you around.
The cold kisses your bone pale skin, coloring your cheeks raspberry red and your eyes crystal clear blue.
Your body encases the frozen flowers, pretty, but sharp.
Their intentions were good, but they shattered under the kingdom of knotted weeds, and lacerated you.
Flooding out are the silver fairytales and Swarovski roses,
Landing with a feather-light thud as they race to the dirt.
A poet's chapped hands cup the frail mass,
Carefully putting the pieces back together,
Creating not the old, but the new,
Not with the mind, but with the heart.
YOU ARE READING
Poems and random writing
PoetryThis is just a collection of poems and random things I've written over the past few months. They're not very good, but the only way I know how to get my emotions out is through writing.
