“Listen, am I beautiful?”
“…Does it hurt?”
“Does it hurt, to cradle stars in your eyes?”
Why does the dawn always sound like things breaking? Skin. Hearts. Souls spun from glass.”
“How about this? I’ll be the collector of your happiness; I’ll wrap your every jar of unfulfilled dreams and liquid laughter in paper more delicate in lines in marble.
Leave your shards behind,
fade into me.”
carrieola on devianart.