(no subject)
.
How was I to know
The sutures would dissolve
And the inferno that stole the whites from my eyes
Would leave me longing for the burn again.
How could I have known
That all along I wasn’t beautiful
And that the star I once was
Had fallen so long ago.
One by one
The paint peels and glass shatters
The ground rots beneath my feet
And I am left to wonder
Clear instead of red
The salt still reigns
And the texture is not the same
The longing can be too much.
The cold takes over in July
I shiver.
Why?