Origami Hearts

I swim in pitch black seas,
flaming stars dotting the depths. 
The seeds of figs slowly creep
into trees of metal
and stone leaves. 

Eyes became dim,
recognition hazy, 
minds foggy
and bones brittle. 

I live in memories,
of the taste of the layer of sweetness
that envelopes the pits of cherries. 
I sweat under imaginary German suns,
watching as someone else
is writing with chalk on gravel
and leaving spaces in the middle of letters. 
I pretend to walk under clear skies,
complaining and begging for ice cream.

My origami heart is folded
and creased. 
All our origami hearts have 
tears 
and tears
and tape
and little strings with buttons attatched
that hang off at the ends. 
An ocean of golden liquid
pools at the bottom of
our papery organs, 
but the paper doesn’t become 
limp
and weak. 
The golden water spreads 
upward,
through our bloody veins
and into the core of our solid bones
until we are filled 
completely 
with 
golden water. 

We swim in snow white clouds,
bright pink sea animals flecking the creamy surface. 
The seeds of oranges burst up
into trees of silver
and green vines.

GreyBean

CA

17 years old

More by GreyBean

  • untitled #2

    i am learning to live without the idea of you

    and i am trying to fill up the empty cave 

    in my head, the one you created when you 

    fell to the ground and pulled me down with you. 

     

  • And So I Refrain

    she talks to me about the paper snowflakes she plans to make this weekend, and so i refrain from telling her that my bedroom has been decorated since the day after thanksgiving.