five things to make you hate me much less:
> the scar on the face...
> the raised brow...
> the loud laughter...
> the silent sobs...
>
+24
in the sighs of slience
we stood in the green fields once
the flickering closed fists
wound around the drenched blossoms
the dew closed in on the broken wings
in the moments of closed winds
the thought does ponder
where blossoms were to end
never in another form but tired breaths
every folding finger traces
solely just the flying birds
enclosing all it can
of the flickers
in the corner of that smile
broken wings: so a stone will tell
flying birds: to a sorrow not less
sighs: in the moments to come
flickers: every action already done
green fields: the joy of being itself
goodbye: sighs of flying birds
closed fist: holding the meaning of words being said
blossoms: to wait for the moments here now
we stood in the green fields once
the flickering closed fists
wound around the drenched blossoms
the dew closed in on the broken wings
in the moments of closed winds
the thought does ponder
where blossoms were to end
never in another form but tired breaths
every folding finger traces
solely just the flying birds
enclosing all it can
of the flickers
in the corner of that smile
broken wings: so a stone will tell
flying birds: to a sorrow not less
sighs: in the moments to come
flickers: every action already done
green fields: the joy of being itself
goodbye: sighs of flying birds
closed fist: holding the meaning of words being said
blossoms: to wait for the moments here now
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