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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #2191080
with her name comes the morning light, with her eyes comes hellfire
she wears a cloak with holes in it
she apologizes when picking flowers
she braids her hair
she runs the same path and never grows tired of the sights
she smokes cheap cigarettes
she reads tarot cards
she gives away advice that she cannot follow
she collects
she wears a gemstone around her neck
on her fingers
her ankle
her ears
three sparrows that she once knew
fly across her wrist
she has suffered
she cries
she falls into the same traps
again and again
she loves him
no she doesn't
she calls her grandmother
she has been taken by the wind
she picks locks
she breaks rules
her coats all smell of smoke
she listens to rock and roll
she drives too fast
all her jeans are torn
but some have flowers on them
she dreams of whales
her eyes are brown
she writes stories
she paints her nails
she congregates in the forest
she never sleeps
she works at a grocery store
she wants to run
no she doesn't
she left home
she came back
she's an antique
she's afraid of birds
but loves their songs
she casts spells
she heals with a stone
and a blink of her eye
a wave of smoking sage
she can't whistle
she can sing
she stands on her toes
she takes her vodka straight
she'll tell your fortune
but doesn't know her own
she's friends with fate
with destiny
and philosophy
though they don't always agree on everything
she whispers secrets to the moon
and laughs with the stars
winks at saturn
she keeps dozens of diaries
and never finishes them
she presses flowers
she paints rocks
she wears a bandana
she sun paints freckles on her face
a dream catcher around her arm
tells her the time
she reads old books with faded pages and dusty covers
you'll never know her name
she doesn't want you to.
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