Sunday, March 11, 2012

The Ruins

Against the fading light of eastern skies. And
all the stories winter speaks. Hush the lips

like dry river beds. Tears are frozen
shiny beads. Trees wear a shade of

withered brown. The once taut skin
is peeling off. Eyes are hollow empty

sockets. The air it reeks of your
sin. I gasp for breath and angels

weep. Now this town has lost
its sleep. The larks have flown

to a distant shore. Love
 doesn't live here anymore

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