Her window is in sight
its right above her cheekbone
but the fall is still too far
and she never forgets to set her alarm
but she has to write down her dreams
and if they happen
to visit during the day
like sun rays on smoke
they are evaporated by night
she has flames
flowing through her veins
but no fire escape
she is purple ribbon
wrapped in wire
she assigns numbers to her plans
that will one day involve kids,
a husband living in beige rooms
even though her favorite color
is green
she doesn't know the simple
the soft middle
hearts put back fast
and then stolen again
hers is stiff and still
the trees are the only ones
that understand
so when no one is looking
she whispers to them
can I leave with you?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment