It is bruises and butterflies
this delicate thing that speaks
beneath paper thin skin
It is the telling of a story
in subtle tones of experience
it is the truth and a lie
and the whisper within
a swirling dawn
that takes your breath away

but the beat marches on

It is the unfolding of a secret
on a night when sleep
does not come so easily
and the syncopated rhythm
grows tired, slows
It is the memory of a daydream
that leaves thoughts to wander
a moment in time that stops
and the pulse flutters

Put your finger there and feel it
© abeautifulchaos