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we spoke softly on this rainy morning in a sterile hospital room, both wounded by blood soul and lymphocytes not friendly fire, a soft knock at the door the physician entered gallantly - smiling and shook both of our hands with confidence he provided his forecast, we were stunned by the revolver with the cocked hammer and everything that once was ordinary and permanent, was abruptly transient and detached we clutched our sweaty hands into nihility staring at the slugs in the cylinder of love and life only one pull away from the white tunnel and the darkness near or far-off she and I into this till the end of our days.
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
I Don't Know
we spoke softly on this rainy morning in a sterile hospital room, both wounded by blood soul and lymphocytes not friendly fire, a soft knock at the door the physician entered gallantly - smiling and shook both of our hands with confidence he provided his forecast, we were stunned by the revolver with the cocked hammer and everything that once was ordinary and permanent, was abruptly transient and detached we clutched our sweaty hands into nihility staring at the slugs in the cylinder of love and life only one pull away from the white tunnel and the darkness near or far-off she and I into this till the end of our days.
Dedicated to my wife who was diagnosed with Leukemia this week.
william-marshall
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
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