She's a color on your color palette.
Too small to stay without slipping off
To fall to the carpeted waves.
You paint with her.
A friend so small; you make her bigger,
As you peel her off the page, she's gone in a whisper.
Genevieve.
Genevieve
She's a color on your color palette.
Too small to stay without slipping off
To fall to the carpeted waves.
You paint with her.
A friend so small; you make her bigger,
As you peel her off the page, she's gone in a whisper.
Genevieve.
More by raincity
-
got to be weary
the mornings are misty,
cold and dark.
my head hurts as I haul myself out of bed,
put on clothes that clearly don't go well together,
and set off through the fog of dawn.
-
-
who am I?
fresh out of the plane,
weary eyed and sickly pale,
I trudge.
deep within my suitcase, I carry a passport I don't want to show to anyone,
even if they ask for ID.
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