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The Strangest of Places
You feel like a ghost moving through me
Hands and lips like whispy smoke
Persistant in thought, careful of what they see
Curling up into my nostrels, praying I choke
Winded, wordy, wasted speech
Cradling falsity in hopes of dream
Collected and mended and fixed to a T
Make me, mold me into whatever I seem
Could I be a captured jem?
A ruby with such potential?
At this rate, we'll never find out
Despite our bonds so essential
Caught in a fit of addiction
A seething mad man's den
Maybe someday a coffin
Maybe somewhere you've already been
Where I scream and writhe into fiery shame
Where you stare down at me with eyes full of blame
Coughing and sputtering, I'll speak your name
Though a sorrowful sight, you will laugh just the same
But I find the strangest of places
Where arms offer warmth and peace
In the smiles of unwanted faces
Where your heartless words always cease
