My name sits heavy upon the tip of your tongue. And I wonder, do roses grow underground? Will sunlight breakthrough the blanket of dirt in which you sit concealed, hidden below our very feet.
The thud of your heartbeat, arms clenched around my small frame. With limbs tangled and lips attached like skin stuck to bone. Digging in deep, let’s see what you find. Fire, water and ice, let’s see what you find.
Secrets stitched in flesh, broken promises, empty thoughts. There are scars on my mind, would you like to see?
Time sits captivated in the palm of your hand, your eyes tell jokes, ones that are so deeply twisted I might never know what you say when you speak, what you actually mean.
And I prefer to hide in the shadows, the light you bring is just too bright. Your grip on me is way too tight. I fear someday I might just snap, but for tonight I sit in your arms and I wonder, do roses grow underground?-H