sjsprWriting

I will wilt away beneath the canopies of light,

to find steps greater than those of past dwellers.

No longer will perception be a problem

when it comes to the length of my hair,

when it comes to the beauty of my skin.

Years have passed since the monsoons in my eyes

have found a resting place beneath my sheets.

And I believe that greater things hide in between creases of skin

than that of perfect beauty.

Books and scriptures will not be written upon rosy lips,

but will rather be seared onto the chapped orifices

of those who speak, but also of those who listen.

Always of those who listen.

Metallics ingrained underneath the fingernails of the brave

will shine brighter than rough diamonds hanging from petal skin.

I will forever be fooled by words upon words upon words.

Simple intricate letters that arise from

burned places that only people who belong to the past

wish to talk about.

Red will always sting the places which I wish to cool off,

and for that reason I will always walk around with freezing fingertips,

with closed eyes, always wishing to be blind.