WyndChilde
08-31-2010, 03:12 PM
Hardwood Floor
Tears don't soak into hardwood floors.
They rest and smear and wait for more.
Until they finally meet the skies,
In mist, from the heat of your face, they rise.
Skin don't mind a hardwood floor.
The cool wood soothes the cheek on it's boards.
Straight from your mouth the floor hears your groan
And feels the hug of your cheekbone.
Legs don't move on the hardwood floor.
They wait in silence as you implore.
Until on silent strings they're borne.
Against your chest to wait for morn.
Hair just waits on the hardwood floor.
It never moves from it's shore.
Until the waves wet it's strands
Or it's grabbed in restless trembling hands.
Blood just dries on the hardwood floor.
In vain is searches back from where it pours.
But in sticky melting puddles it waits.
For wounds to close and time to erase.
Your spirit minds the hardwood floor.
It wants to rise, but sinks to mourn.
It pleads with your chest to be reborn.
Your Spirit minds the hardwood floor.
Tears don't soak into hardwood floors.
They rest and smear and wait for more.
Until they finally meet the skies,
In mist, from the heat of your face, they rise.
Skin don't mind a hardwood floor.
The cool wood soothes the cheek on it's boards.
Straight from your mouth the floor hears your groan
And feels the hug of your cheekbone.
Legs don't move on the hardwood floor.
They wait in silence as you implore.
Until on silent strings they're borne.
Against your chest to wait for morn.
Hair just waits on the hardwood floor.
It never moves from it's shore.
Until the waves wet it's strands
Or it's grabbed in restless trembling hands.
Blood just dries on the hardwood floor.
In vain is searches back from where it pours.
But in sticky melting puddles it waits.
For wounds to close and time to erase.
Your spirit minds the hardwood floor.
It wants to rise, but sinks to mourn.
It pleads with your chest to be reborn.
Your Spirit minds the hardwood floor.