Laping up my courage
in an old dented bucket.
I carry my water with me.
Foams over, as self expression frosts.
On the edge for all of my hours,
the perfect whisper might just set me on fire.
I'll keep my secrets,
while you keep your cool.
Bitter as I am,
I remain focussed.
To spill any of my silence...
would be too revealing.
Numb to your slithery words that rode on my soul.
I'm alive in my own skin, porcelain to you. Just as I should be.
Crossed arms over a raging pulse,
my vibrant innocence is no longer your constant gift.