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170 · Sep 2020
This Old Bark
Shane Sep 2020
Through my window
Lies an old bark
Chopped away, used up
For flames long cold.

The rain is useless.
The sunshine a memory.
The damp black dirt
The only hope it knows.

Just roots remain
Sinking into Nothingness,
A pale faded oak
Turning grey and ******.
Cracked and wrinkled,
Scarred and blunt.

It doesn't move with the Wind
Or offer shelter and
It just wants to rot away
Before tomorrow comes.

But each night,
This old bark stares
Back through my window...
Waiting with me.

167 · Nov 2020
Shane Nov 2020
Maybe there is something left
Inside this piece of charcoal.
Maybe there is one more chance
To burn with another.

Or maybe this is just
The last dream,
Before you crumble and fade
Into the black smoke.
122 · Sep 2020
The Types of Silence
Shane Sep 2020
That between lovers,
A silent understanding
Of everything that is
And will ever be.

That of unrequited love,
A broken truth never to be told,
Whispered only to ghosts
And the snow.

That between former lovers,
A silent pain of collapsing worlds.

And the last silence
When there's no reason to carry on
The one that screams and clings
To the last remnants
Of something to live for.
117 · Apr 2020
Answers May Vary
Shane Apr 2020
I still want to ki- - you
You took my l- -e
I am now just - -one
Lost with questions
- - -ken in your sea.
Something different
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