(no subject)

[ohtobloom]

light and lemon juice drip quickly
from your palms as if running from
your keep. the lemons you squeeze
graciously weaken their skin, and willingly
sink into their icy cool grave. i
admire the ridges in your nails; are they
baby waves or crashing currents? it's
bad to immortalize, but it's like
a bad habbit's revolving door.
so much air but
there's not enough to breathe.
it's all right there
dancing and twirling,
so pretty in the light
unaware of the
life it gives.