her

her thoughts seem to me like shattered glass, hastily thrown back together, glued down to look just right, may even have been tucked in bed at night, yet there is something thats just not right, with her...as a studier of eyes i conclude, are so very crazed, i was at once amazed, so beautiful the shards of church glass, shiny little pieces of the life she had, the innocence kept locked away for safe keeping, the door to her cold soul bolted shut, the key's rusty and lost to the past, the light plays metaphors upon her pretty face, the wind picks up whisps of her hair in it's playful tease, and the little smile says all is fine and how are you, and then i see the knife stab her, i dont know, is that her blood all over the ground? her bloody face looks so elegant beneath this tree in light of the moon, her hair suddenly looks matted down, dark with her precious blood, the lips parted with words that, though uttered had no wind, ok..i understand... (written about a friend make whatever you think of it, i promised that i would never forgive myself and i will not)