Little thorn,rest awhile in my skin.Rest that I might remember the rose.Rest that I might grieve the summer gone;the summers that never were,and that will never be.
Still, skipping through the watersof my subconsciouslike a stone.The pain intensifiesas does the ecstasy,and I am drowning-and I am breathingfor the first time.Pray, wake me from thisbeautiful nightmare.Please, leave me to dream.
I cried for her. For all those years she hid herselfamongst the whispersand the cobwebsin the dark atticof myimagination. For all those times she tried so hard to shine her lightin every placeit was sure to remain unnoticed. For all…
I am translucent. Wildly unprepared for the light.
Wild-eyed, bloody-fingered, I gather slivers of me. A thousand sharp shards shining, glinting malevolently in the moonlight.