What if it does?

 What if it does?
~Miss A

Believer of everything, trusts humans earn seven lives for them,
Entrusts you with the same ripple, let it sink slowly, as it breaks
And now that you got one, the iris starts searching for the one,
The keeper of your all, the spark to tame, dig up a bond to create.
Where will you find all the money, for something so expensive,
A box of treasure, pulsing with blood and radiating heat.
A piece so important as if to take a stone for precious gem,
To keep it as a captive, but to make them stay willingly,
Which runs away, but without terror so freely, a boss in den.

A soul which respects you like yourself, a fire that never dies,
Wonders are alone, the singularity to spare, silence with just us
Crickets chip even in despair, the heat is okay, you can bear,
Unlike heartstrokes, rest your heart flowers under the footsteps.
But to hope, it won’t be tarnished, but be lifted, decorated in hair
To have the fragrance to freshen up the neighborhood,
Making the arena indulged in sweet hunger, an appetite they care
For everything to turn up like fantasy, for once, what if it does?

What would I do if I lost it all, then life won’t be what I could worth,
The blazing pot lit in my heart, you won’t let it turn cold right,
The butter is precious, but I would burn my all even if I had some oil,
Just let it burn overnight, over days, evergreen, don’t let it dry.
I promise to hear every beat inside me as well, I hear your lungs cry for me,
Take my hand, I’d offer it to you for free, just for once I’ll find relief.
I see the buds flower, the pink petals bloom, dry and fall,
I’m not a breaker, even at my worst, I don’t break promises I have with sincerity.

The slip from the edge, a scene I always adore,
As you fall with trust in the losing color pot, fall all the way to love,
Even when you can’t put a bet on Joker, there’s still an open door,
To take a chance, to leave yourself behind, take a flight over steps, a dove.
All pure, left to the wind in freedom, find how height makes your heartbeat,
To take a dive under water, so deep, the gasp for air so short; it dims the vision,
To let the thorns prick, to see the flowers in negative, still it seems like a treat.
I wonder if it could make me strong, not a fraction but make me a whole, treason.

Read through phrases, I always do, understand each thought of the author,
To analyze the limitations, how they went by, consider if all that was a lie.
And then always know, what came down from the deepest, just a script, a refractor,
It makes the light even smaller, almost to be gone, but I tend to hold on, I try.
All indulged in thoughts of you, I forget the pains the books told me to stay away from,
But even with that, they take a shot, no matter what, thorns, bullets, or knives,
What do I do? For now, my heart says yes, so loudly I can’t deny, I’ll fill this form.
The thunder would strike later, the blood will drain, but what if works? What if it works?

❤ ❤ ❤