I love bare bodies,
I love art on my skin
Knowing when I find it and making it permanent
But these days
All I feel are shades of beige
No rebel no rage
I remain without a face
Love creates order
Love in my heart
But theres a mess in my soul
Is this what it’s like, to have some control?
I thought that’s what I wanted but my chaos is mine
I can get up and breathe but is that being alive?
What am I saying? of course this is life
I’m alone with some wine and I miss the lack of light.
Do I feel whole? Controlling my pain
When my hands wave and I smile without strain?
I used to hide, creative and bold
Now I hide a little less,
Love stays, and days still go
But was I better when I was alone?