A dark poem of roads, heels, and balancing, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
May 1, 2004Early Notebooks
To my heart, you walk in heels, so fine,
balancing on a point, on this fragile line.
Did I deserve this pain you bestow?
Can I reshape it, or let it go?
Even in the fall, I meet your gaze,
drowning in the depths of your cruel maze.
So special, so raw, your touch, your skin—
a whisper of silk, where my sorrows begin.
Your beauty cuts deeper than any knife,
a bittersweet ache that haunts my life.
I crumble beneath your piercing sway,
yet I stand, begging for another day.
Your skin, it makes my spirit cry,
a brush of tenderness that won’t deny
the longing, the hurt, the love that bleeds
from a heart that falls, yet still believes.
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