suppleness

watch these

teardrops crawl down

your soft

supple skin-

not so supple

actually,

if your fingers can graze

those thorns

made up of piled up

regrets and retorts

sinking into your cushion

when you sleep

when will you realise

you turn on the engine

press accelerate,

cloud your eyes with

gasoline and exhausted smoke,

then you’ll let out a sigh

saying it hurts

stop stepping onto

your window shield to block your

vision, thinking only others

deserve something clear

stop thinking eyes don’t need to

glance this way

because there are miracles

and you’re not

one of them

stop bowing down,

letting hair get into the

way of reality,

stop falling into arms

of those charms, sugar-coated

in self-victimisation

remember what you have

in your backpack,

(but don’t tie strings to it)

you may drop things here and

there,

never finding them again or

tripping on them

and some days you may find that

your fingers extend a little longer

or

shorter

or you might just discover

you’ve grown another tooth-

just stop those hands from ripping it all

off

instead

stand still

freeze

agree

with it all

and

adore

soar in the

vastness

of possibilities

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