A dark soul, With pain untold. A broken heart, That tore him apart. drops of tears, For the burning scars. And a bleeding mind Hoping for a way to find.
You are nothing to me. You are just a figment of my imagination. You are there and then in a blink of an eye, gone. Not much difference than the reality of us.
I am daylight of a dissolving stay in Paris looking over wrought-iron dreams peering through baroque and promises at the ransom note written on a sleeping **** sunbather's ****-cheeks where it reads: "...our marriage was nothing more than a foxhole to you." ~
You can hear the winds from inside my walls. Nature at its strongest so we can hear it when it calls. Raindrops beat with a rhythm against the window panes. Nothing dry remains.