summer nights—cold soul
drunken anecdote
the flow of ink so delicate
to massacre the old for the new
winter morning—warm hands
littered streets
the sound of your vowels and consonants
just the right consistency
chiseled gravestones—life in your eyes
sound of footsteps
the burn of your last words to me
inverted and sweet
the universe owes us no due;
the six minutes i treasured you—
Paradise, 2018
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 5:44 AM UTC
summer nights—cold soul
drunken anecdote
the flow of ink so delicate
to massacre the old for the new
winter morning—warm hands
littered streets
the sound of your vowels and consonants
just the right consistency
chiseled gravestones—life in your eyes
sound of footsteps
the burn of your last words to me
inverted and sweet
the universe owes us no due;
the six minutes i treasured you—
Paradise, 2018
