Poetry

Irony

I love the way you laugh and I love the way you sing
I love how all life’s bitterness just crumbles to your feet
And you walk on it so gracefully on you way back to the moon
You could make a floating garden out of dust if you so choose

I can’t be your voice of reason. I won’t tell you right from wrong
But I’ll learn your favorite colors, and I’ll write your favorite song
Could you smother me with humor, and laugh at all my fears
Take the breath right from my lungs until the smoke decides to clear
Weigh me down with blackened roses, let the thorns take to my flesh
You’d never have to speak a word. You are irony at best

You can make water taste of salt, or turn a heart to stone
Make the sun fade in color with the kindness you have shown
Make a blind man see your beauty, and a mute man want to sing
Make a cripple start to dance. Make a deaf ear start to ring
A wrong man want to change, and a right one turn from God
Make a poor man turn to gold and back to ashes when you’re gone

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