Shy Parachutes

Turn the leaf brown. Suffer the sleep. That would lie to me. The ladder. At her window sill. Pulling on her hair. The cloudy dungeon. In which he keeps her. Surrendering to the sun.

The bad men. Written on her arm. The truth embedded in her scars. Telling stories again. About songs they yet to sing. Flowers reflected in the glass. Coaxing the window. To open.

Her discretion resembles the math. As her skin calculates the probability. Of finding the source. The roots pierce the soil. The flowers usurp the sunlight. While she pretend not to understand the balance between.

She sleeps on the edge of the bed. With her window open. Falling asleep dismissing the rumbles of the world. She carries it all in clenching arms. It's not that heavy. To tell these lies. It's not such a burden to give in. Let these roads decide how lost I am.