Untitled
My tongue is tied
tinted scarlet windows
that I fly through
as I let my grasp go
from the guide meant for peace.
My chances decrease,
while my dreams do the opposite.
I mix up your silence
with the screams of my hope
to be saved.
I’m depraved
from the touch I long to feel again,
with your voice and face
engraved into my desire
for a better future.
This may seem like a love poem,
but it’s a glove
that holds a situation
a situation of no conversation.
I listened to silence for a sign.
Thinking your eyes said something
your mouth only did once.
My tongue is tied
as I wave goodbye
to the figure
society calls a crush.
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