She's lost in the dark,
carrying quite a fragile heart,
on her sleeve.
She's far too tired to sleep.
brings the cigarette to her lips,
giving death another kiss.
It's surprising how she's always calm,
always composed.
The intoxication thrills her,
but she hides it underneath her skin.
She blows the smoke thin;
she walks away.
Then you see her face,
her eyes piercing through you,
discovering every secret in one look.
You're entranced,
by how she reads you like a book,
but she's still as cryptic as before.
Towards the water, she heads,
and smirks as you follow,
proving her right,
she knows what she does to you,
to everyone,
she's the goddess of the night.
YOU ARE READING
Shut Your Eyes (February 2011 - August 2011)
PoetryI'm like an actor who forgets his lines because of stage-fright. I can't trust myself. So let my writings speak for my heart and for my head, let them say the words I can't say aloud. This is all I've got, since being quiet and contemplative hasn't...
