The life of a teenage girl knows the delirium and misery of the earth’s breaths in its finest form of wedded poetry.
Ⅰ. Stray Piano Keys left Afloat
Woven along every ventricle of their swiftly beating hearts are the eloquently placed words of their many lovers.
An homage to the purgatory that shadows the daze of the skies rosy pink cheeks, bashfully burning to the words of our eyes.
For the eyes speak of a language ancient to the heart.
Its scriptures remain hidden behind pink fluffs of the clouds that serenade the dreams of us teenage girls.
Along the distant horizon, shades of blue waltz in,
making love to the sky,
birthing the foam of the sea,
soothingly crashing along the shore.
And from the foam is where girls are born,
from the very sea that’d eventually drown them with no remorse.
It would catch us in ambush,
an attack to our perfectly poised and practiced character, setting fire to the admirably curated scripts we’ve worked our entire life drafting.
Set ablaze, us girls simmer among the flakes of fire engulfing us in our shame.
And it is not long before we wilt within life’s garden,
dusted with the ashes of our sisters as we wait to meet the same fate.
Motionless we wait amongst our graves, naked to the world, vulnerable to your judgment in its harshest form.
For our skin,
is the world’s canvas,
bare to bear the truth
and your tongue,
the brush,
smears our innocence with every word.
And it is here where poetry dies.
Left to the whispers of the wind, the beauty of the teenage girl’s poem becomes one of the relics, forever forgotten.
How could you forget me?