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Nov 2017
screams,

and hundred dollar bills


a squeaking bed

Working behind closed doors,

pleasures known to a faceless man


she suffocates in her tears

"I am happy or sad?"

she wonders


It feels so wrong,

but so right

Is this where I belong?


within a rush of a fading high,

and the agony of a broken heart


my waning spirit,

it drifts in this endless cosmos

as I watch its infinite stars,

burning out,

one at time,


to when I become devoured,

into its black hole

with my tears to the skies
"I work at the inn"
kayanja ronald edwin
Written by
kayanja ronald edwin  25/M
(25/M)   
258
   morgan
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