Water is as clear
as a crystal whose
harshness still manages to
be soft, and glisten
against the light and
refract the pain it's shown.
Drawing the eye in
while wounding the
delicate skin on one’s
fingertips,
which are then placed
under the crystal clearwater,
which flows bravely,
baring all and having nothing left
to expose,
folding over itself
somersaulting,
flaunting its unfamiliar carefreeness,
and how without weighing
much it manages to
cover all in revelation.
It skims down
against the panels
of pain which throb
under the attention–
for the attention–
of the water.
Requiring its
clear and smooth,
apparently crystal esque
perfection and cool,
subsiding under
the care and blissful
fluidity which
it had a chance to
barely graze,
have a slight
taste of the
crystal clear
water.