(no subject)
Boots get muddy sometimes.
Don't know where it came from in the first place.
But when we look at it caked under our heels.....
...we know it's there, but we don't understand. Looks delicious.
Fingers get cold sometimes. The shoulders, the elbows are warm. Only our fingers. And chins. The first to ever hit the ground.
Lovely. Breaking is breath taking. We looked so beautiful when we fell. We know our passion when we have to crawl.
Violins and drums play on the open crackling, sparking leaves when we see ourselves begin to grow smaller and smaller from the back of the lumber, the lumber in the trunk.
When we let go, we do good. Dry, dry as the crops that tumble and croak. Drown in creeks, creeks that numb your lips golden. Dust still rests on your eyelids, silver gray became your cheeks.
Don't know where it came from in the first place.
But when we look at it caked under our heels.....
...we know it's there, but we don't understand. Looks delicious.
Fingers get cold sometimes. The shoulders, the elbows are warm. Only our fingers. And chins. The first to ever hit the ground.
Lovely. Breaking is breath taking. We looked so beautiful when we fell. We know our passion when we have to crawl.
Violins and drums play on the open crackling, sparking leaves when we see ourselves begin to grow smaller and smaller from the back of the lumber, the lumber in the trunk.
When we let go, we do good. Dry, dry as the crops that tumble and croak. Drown in creeks, creeks that numb your lips golden. Dust still rests on your eyelids, silver gray became your cheeks.