I kissed my palm, thinking my blood was indigo,
But I've only ever seen it crimson.
I tied a bow of silver string around a child's wrist,
And watched his balloon try to fly.
I studied the stars in hopes that one day,
I could whisper their names without a single doubt,
But I still can't name a single star to save my life.
I dreamt of pretty words and silver linings,
But never did they compare to reality,
Even when it bled me until all that was left was my carcass.
I pulled the edge of my frayed sleeves over my smooth palms,
Thinking that safety doesn't always come with numbers.
Sometimes, it comes with words pulling bitten lips into wet cheeks,
Until all that's left is the little laugh that stitches us together,
Two strands of never ending gray.
We are the loves that have never met,
And the friends who cry because they care,
And the enemies who swear hatred with the whisper of their name,
But we are bound to each other all the same.
We are alive,
And maybe we are not living,
But we can survive because my hand in yours,
Is a hand all the same,
And your hand in mine,
Is never in vain.