My eyelids are light as steel, my cheeks they burn so cold
My fingertips are shaking, breaking, old.
My neck is moulded into this permanent crane state and
my legs go numb as in this place I wait
for your minuscule words of hurt and hate
(and confusing the two, and it being my fault)
You never tell me you love me, but still my heart sighs
as I sit here and count down the days
till your eyes-
cobalt mixed with Patterson's blue- smile and say
you do.
This, this is me, the girl that yearns for you, is all I'll ever be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you have it bad, i sugest taking two pills and a glass of water and try to sleep it of love you always ivy x