A quiet stone stillness

Flushed by petal skin

Glowing but whispering

Eyes painted with grim

Black lines suggest somber

Whimsy chilled by


Apathetic limbs worn

By an apricot smile

As genuine as an emerald

The wavy blonde red-lipped

Lady in the pool next door

Wears ‘round her neck

In an icy glass vile.


This is a girl

With thoughts seemingly

Set ablaze

Laced with words that tango

With one another,

Bursting up in bright

Colorful flames of


Perpetually joyous amber

Pure Godly crystal blue

Organically hearted green

Deeply pensive plum 

And contented peach.


But inside that girl

Under ruby sunset hair

Embedded beneath

Silent tranquil skin,

Steam is building up

As fickle anxiety

Boils over.


But she has silenced

The whistle of

The socially anxious

Kettle, so that

Only noiseless vapor

Suffocating words

Stammers out.


Her thoughts don’t flow

Like the liquid colors

She dresses in,

They race like

Vibrant speeding blurs

Colliding on hot pavement,

Crashing, burning


Draped in placid skin.


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