Creeping through the curtains of trust,
my soul and its memory collide -
For upon my hollow heart of tin,
she weeps a sonnet in shallow breaths
and smiles as the teardrops scatter .
A pale light explodes underneath her skin,
gaunt and haunting she fades into dust
and I am left sifting through the ashes
of fine remembrance once again -
2 comments:
its really amazing that how well u can say so many things in these limited words ...really appreciable ...memory never dies ...it keeps growing !!!
your never-fading belief in chasing the eternal rainbow inspires me, J.
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