Longing
lingers onto impatient morning. The sun burns an unspoken reprimand. The subtle
comfort of stolen passion over. The heartache soon comes. There is no escape
from this, our inevitable parting.
Memory
is a beautiful knife. The wounds go barely noticed. The cuts run deep. Shadows
of regret creep under the floor. The ghosts of our better selves fade away into
the perfect nothing.
- R. Dinasky
Copyright: 2016, May 9.
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