she was nothing but a silhouette.

her life once vivid- colored by dream and ambition has been blackened by a past too present still.

knocking on the doors of high rises and hotel rooms, carrying her treasured heels into the vapid mist of a sleeping city.

her figure even out of the mist is the only thing to make out still.

emptiness travels in her bones and loneliness is a dear friend.

by rare occurrence of special characters, she becomes illuminated and her appearance is said to be of an angel.

these special characters, men with their reassuring smiles, and kodak promises- and their shortcomings of wives, flirtings and lies make her short-lived sparkle dim.

she allows disappointment to counsel her and guide her deeper into shadow.

the silhouette is the tragic girl now

Work the seam,
Collect your pay,
live to work another day

Work the seam ,
with low overhead,
Finish work, head off to bed

work the seam ,
dangerously dim,
give into its every whim

work the seam,
explosion beneath,
tunnels become full of grief

work the seam ,
the day is done,
seems this time the mountain won

work the seam ,
but not for coal,
but for bodies young and old

work the seam ,
collect you pay,
remember the ones who didn't make it out today...

Its nice being out here with you
the wind stirring up the smoke
feeling the warmth radiate off of you
hearing you breath.
hoping that you have all these thoughts that run circles through my head

S* ome of
T he reasons
A re not enough for
Y ou  but I want them to be,    *DON'T GO !