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redbarchettadrive
Poems
Jun 2012
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.
Written by
redbarchettadrive
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