Softness of being worn

Bright burst of color. Eyes that weigh the world with the pull of gravity. I am pouring out, veins leaking life and luring understanding from my depths. My dreams haunt out the parts that I am too frightened to watch. Petal prints of piano, I carry melodies throughout my day as a reminder. Backdrop harmonies that blend into faces and pinch cheeks with red. It becomes enough to sit still, my chest rising and falling to the sound of the ocean. Hands holding each other, partner pieces without searching. Working on the grinding down of suffering, the smooth softness of being worn. There is no harm in disaster, destruction breeds bright and new. The questions fade and the details don’t seem to matter as much. Days folding into origami shapes.