dried flowers, vinyl records and scented candles
up on the shelves.
heart shaped sunglasses, books, crystals,
a white lighter and a collection of shells.
dark red lipstick,
to paint the deepest contrast
to pale white skin.
a note saying 444,
two wings glistening
- don't look too close
or they might break.
handwritten letters, angel numbers
reflecting on old memoirs.
black eyeshadow
to overshadow
insecurities at the down low.
she's walking like she's
in a world of her own,
short skirts and converse,
falling in reverse
down, down, down...
angel wings can't seem to
hold her up at all times,
today they're tearing at her spine
agony and comfort have long become
intertwined.
~
~
this poem started out as something quite random, evolved over a couple of days and keeps so many different thoughts in between its lines now that it would probably take too long to explain it - but I'll be leaving this one up to your interpretation.
let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading! ð¹â¤ï¸
â§ï½¥ï¾: *â§ï½¥ï¾:*:ï½¥ï¾â§*:ï½¥ï¾â§ï½¥ï¾: *â§ï½¥ï¾:*:ï½¥ï¾â§*:ï½¥ï¾â§ï¾: *â§
references:
1 "a white lighter" - the white lighter myth (Club 27)
xo, S