Stained sand, we
saved for grey days
that never arrived.
Rivers greeted
prying thumbnails,
which remained
ready, but unclean.
Romance clucked
through the crook
of an armed shadow,
where she melted.
Sherbet floated
like ***** on
her shuddering
upper lip.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC