a collection of quirks

The knots in her hair are shadows of the knots in her brain.

Held together by secrets and rubber bands.

Hiding insecurities and scars left behind by childish adventure and mishap.

The inked lines along her forearms are the close cousin of the veins that lay below her paper thin skin. 

They remind her of overdue assignments and that she is alive.

Sometimes they mean nothing but beauty or boredom, 

waltzing along the lines of wives tales of ink poisoning.

  

And the lust left bruises on her neck are exact replicas of of the ones on her heart. 

Although the ones that ran up the throat have long since faded she still sees them in the mirror. 

Those blueish purple blotches have become as much a part of her as the colorless ones on her soul. 

And everyday the wind takes her hair and shapes it into something new.

And everyday steady hands re-craft the maps upon her arms.

And everyday her neck remains pale and empty

But her heart pumps on, steady and strong and whole.

Reviews

[sohadtolba]

looveee it :)........ you have a special way of writing...