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Literature Text
there is a girl.
she has an atlas tattooed on her soul and carved into her bones;
shielding it from view, she flees
across burning bridges and cuts her feet on broken promises.
she’s been through red skies and has felt kisses burn at three a.m.
burning, because she has always known they were temporary,
just like herself.
the floor shatters beneath her bare feet as she searches for her worth,
searching in vain, because she’s become paper-thin and transparent.
unable to see herself in cracked mirrors and muddy reflections,
she turns away, wiping away black tears she refuses to acknowledge.
there is a girl.
bruises color her emotions and taste bitter on her tongue.
this is what’s left of her, insecurities leaking through the cracks,
her hard exterior is not enough to protect her all the time.
she runs.
profanities scratch her throat as she relives all the times he lied
and she leaves behind a trail of sincerity that only others can see.
all she can see is a soot-stained failure
drowning in her own ocean of self-hatred.
there is a girl.
she once danced around willow trees, her smile making others flower.
there used to be rainbows painted on her heart,
gems hidden between her toes, right alongside her mischievous intentions.
but she flew too freely.
her carefree path led her to deception.
she wandered away from the comfort of hoof beats and fiction,
straight into a trickster’s tangled cave, immersing herself inside.
by the time she stumbled out,
she’d become a shell of her previous youth.
lonely and jaded, she threw up her walls
and fought to keep everyone away.
she has an atlas tattooed on her soul and carved into her bones;
shielding it from view, she flees
across burning bridges and cuts her feet on broken promises.
she’s been through red skies and has felt kisses burn at three a.m.
burning, because she has always known they were temporary,
just like herself.
the floor shatters beneath her bare feet as she searches for her worth,
searching in vain, because she’s become paper-thin and transparent.
unable to see herself in cracked mirrors and muddy reflections,
she turns away, wiping away black tears she refuses to acknowledge.
there is a girl.
bruises color her emotions and taste bitter on her tongue.
this is what’s left of her, insecurities leaking through the cracks,
her hard exterior is not enough to protect her all the time.
she runs.
profanities scratch her throat as she relives all the times he lied
and she leaves behind a trail of sincerity that only others can see.
all she can see is a soot-stained failure
drowning in her own ocean of self-hatred.
there is a girl.
she once danced around willow trees, her smile making others flower.
there used to be rainbows painted on her heart,
gems hidden between her toes, right alongside her mischievous intentions.
but she flew too freely.
her carefree path led her to deception.
she wandered away from the comfort of hoof beats and fiction,
straight into a trickster’s tangled cave, immersing herself inside.
by the time she stumbled out,
she’d become a shell of her previous youth.
lonely and jaded, she threw up her walls
and fought to keep everyone away.
now there is a girl,
bags under her eyes,
running,
as if her life depends upon it.
bags under her eyes,
running,
as if her life depends upon it.
© 2016 - 2024 silverthorne-studios
Comments2
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Wow . . . Just . . . . Wow. . . . I've never read such great literature. I know this sounds stuck up, but I need some confidence. Please read my poem(s) and if you do or don't like them, tell me why. No one ever improves by believing that they are perfect.