Post by Whimsical||MUSE; on Nov 15, 2011 22:16:42 GMT -5
Metamorphosis
Your exhaustion is palpable;
sticking to my fingers,
wound so tight as I pull them away --
xanthum gum clings to my nails; even the smell
is nauseating.
Worry, or ulcers, gnaw at my stomach
but I can only watch in silence
as deterioration wastes away the perfection
in your face.
Your eyes, your mazes, your complexities
melting away under the weight of all your creations.
This is for you --
the only thing I can do;
a shoulder too small to sleep on, fingers too clumsy
to take away the barnacles that have stuck,
to suck, and suck
at your life;
This is for you --
a smile. A laugh. Needless urgings bleeding
away to white noise as you drop from the world.
I can't reach you anymore, but I'll be here,
waiting,
------waiting,
for your hands to reach out to mine again.
This little bit of silence I can offer, stressless
and beautiful;
a golden truth. This time, I'll take your burden
from your shoulders and hoist them up high.
My hands are small, but rough from work;
You might see weakness, but it's time for you
to see strength.
Even the Chrysalis eventually wakes and unfurls her wings.
November 15, 2011
Your exhaustion is palpable;
sticking to my fingers,
wound so tight as I pull them away --
xanthum gum clings to my nails; even the smell
is nauseating.
Worry, or ulcers, gnaw at my stomach
but I can only watch in silence
as deterioration wastes away the perfection
in your face.
Your eyes, your mazes, your complexities
melting away under the weight of all your creations.
This is for you --
the only thing I can do;
a shoulder too small to sleep on, fingers too clumsy
to take away the barnacles that have stuck,
to suck, and suck
at your life;
This is for you --
a smile. A laugh. Needless urgings bleeding
away to white noise as you drop from the world.
I can't reach you anymore, but I'll be here,
waiting,
------waiting,
for your hands to reach out to mine again.
This little bit of silence I can offer, stressless
and beautiful;
a golden truth. This time, I'll take your burden
from your shoulders and hoist them up high.
My hands are small, but rough from work;
You might see weakness, but it's time for you
to see strength.
Even the Chrysalis eventually wakes and unfurls her wings.
November 15, 2011