Desolate Escape
Nasua creeps.
Feel it rising,
smell
a hint
of tabaco,
then my
gut wrenches.
eyes close,
and then open.
Memories come,
and go.
The sun is set to blind,
tears to freze the ice.
A heart that wanders,
desolate from escape.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
----><< Home