barcelona as the muse

the city is on your lips tonight
as you die in a feverish glory. 
the world is not yours for the taking: 
you are too young to be broken. 
i laugh and watch

as you rearrange your life in circles—
what are you today?
the poet, the madman, or the king?
i hope the bloodstains on the towel
remind you that you are not endless. 
i love the curve of your shoulder
and i love

how delicate the human body is.
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GreyBean

CA

17 years old

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  • Poetry

    By GreyBean

    untitled #2

    i am learning to live without the idea of you

    and i am trying to fill up the empty cave 

    in my head, the one you created when you 

    fell to the ground and pulled me down with you. 

     

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  • Poetry

    By GreyBean

    And So I Refrain

    she talks to me about the paper snowflakes she plans to make this weekend, and so i refrain from telling her that my bedroom has been decorated since the day after thanksgiving. 

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