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The Cost Of Your Hand

I awake on a bed of roses, 

Whose petals crunch like orphaned autumn leaves.

A ray of sunlight towards me approaches,

Dancing in the light are muddy speckles aplenty.


I can feel the air around me toy with my locks,

Which is as feeble as your grasp on my hand.

But I hold on

To you, this very second, this very moment.


The mere sight of you sugarcoats my disill...

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Away from the crowd and rays of the sun
are the moments I cherish the most,
It is when, your wisdom
outbreaks from the dam of your lips,
which usually gurgles teases, jokes and laughter
(not intended for me, of course not)

you voice your
dreams and aspirations
painting a rainbow
on the dark night's sky,
and somewhere else aswell...

as well as your insecurities
in a sober expression...

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It cuts deep within,
Its' touch gentle and soft.
It barks and howls,
Its' voice lovely and calm.

Its' thoughts are demeaning,
Its' love unconditional.
Its' presence a weight,
Pride churned in the ridicule.

It beats you to your knees,
But your kneecaps don't agree. 
You stand on your feet,
While the blades stab in deep.

The scars show malformity,
Yet the face shows ever delight.

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