The Taste Of Poem by Brittany Alexis Murphy

The Taste Of



My momma says to be careful,
To not fall too hard.
That I'm still picking up my heart, little pieces of bloody shards.
I'm still teaching myself how to breathe, screaming was all I knew.
Now I'm a field of pictures, pictures of graceful flowers and you.

They're all a different shade, a different shade of red. They're positioned in a certain way, I'm putting it together in my head.
I kissed each mark of blue, perfect left tainted on my lips.
I guess this is actually real, a feeling that's just like bliss.

I slowly took my place in the middle, the middle of this amazing dream. I smiled up at the sunflower sky, maybe this could be reality.
I was never good I putting puzzles together, I only knew the edges.
Honestly maybe I can fix them, filling the middle without any effort.

The ground was actually a canvas, my skin was actually the paint. As I lay down wondering, I breathe, I'm skilled and I'm not a saint.
Later in that dream, I finally got up. A single flower blooming from my mouth, a few blueberries near in a cup.

Someone lay in my place, skin was colored and teal.
But from me, I dreamed, how could this be so real?
I kneeled down, and kissed its eyes.
I whispered a word here and there.

I stroked my fingertips across its lips, ran a hand through its hair.
I had never been so close, never been in touch
With something in dreamland, wow,

Just my luck.
I stood and felt the breeze, it smelled like vanilla, so sweet.
It has vanished from the canvas, to the flowers and on to the trees.

This song came on and the trees started to wave,
I didn't move, it was speaking.
Every word is crucially important.

The insects even stopped lurking.
you're the one in my dreams,
The one I want to hold.

You're my only one.
I promise this with my soul.

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