- Published in Leaves of Ink
By: Kosative D.
Half heartedly, would I presume
to wither a holy spell--
yet to what degree would said charm consume
the bit of me where lightness dwells?
So often am I as sheer as the glass that makes me.
Each time I smile, I often disappear.
Melting away to the infinite emotions that take me
on a luminous faux fervent veneer.
I dictate many truths from the sand
None of them see through as ice.
But often hold glass expectations in my hand
Whilst trying desperately to suffice.
I’m often ravenous and dine on corpses--
yet my meals so often remain
reflective of my see through forces
and consummate my glassy veins.
I wonder how much sun it might take
to make me visible—a glass gone opaque!
For I carry diseases inside these frail walls.
The world with such ease doth breaks.
Folding into such memories hidden in breakable shawls--
so obstinate as it quakes.
For look at me!
I am nothing you see.
See through as a curtain you hang for vanity.
However so thick, I do think I could be
Opulent, but dead to a varied degree.