gray
silence
whispers in your
ear
feel it down your
back
prickling skin
dry tongue
only the poets
prod the day with the whites
of their eyes
(unstained, cherry red)
the rest mutter
faithlessly
and settle back into the gloom
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I used to listen to it all the time..
I would go to my bedroom window and stare at my reflection in the glass and just listen to the song for hours. I decided then that when I met someone I thought was as beautiful as the song, I should give it to that person. And I didn’t mean beautiful on the outside. I meant beautiful in all ways.
