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Etching Goodbye in the Mist

Forgotten flesh behind cold walls,

 

 

 

pressing nose to steamed glass--

 

 

With weightless memories,

your ache hides within a dream

like whispers on a scream.

 

 

--playing moon games.

 

a black widow wrapping

flies is the only sound.

 

The silence roared like fire,

standing in the shadows of surrender...

 

etching goodbye in the mist.

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Written by
redbarchettadrive
American
Published
Jun 2, 2012
Lines·Words
11·52
Permission

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