Oct 16, 2006 23:41
Habitually smiling hands, knotted at the knuckles,
Help up high, until their beautiful demise,
The elegance- nothing short of pure.
When at its brightest brought down to Earth.
The light eternal now a dull blur,
Your future blew up like fireworks.
How eager, striking the lovely match,
A flame once internal,
Now leaves its marks over your body.
No one covets the past like the pain those pills do not set free.
I search my brain, for one immaculate blanket,
To cover your body and absorb your calloused skin.
I found no such blanket, I found no miracle medicine.
You are my vigil.
The match lit by my little sister wavers in the wind
But heats me no matter how weary.