Walking down streets with trees, having no leaves to survive them.
Much like the inescapable mask holding you tight to the road warmth is derived from.
In the waiting breath of tomorrow, you find definition in your predicament.
A lost and hidden emotion coiled in the memories of a yesterdays once forgotten.
Failing to reach the point of unintelligible temperament, missing moments left in between starry skies.
Like a broken hand, or a heart closed shut, no love will be given as we lay in self-loathing.
In the ever ending sorrow, of a bird that lost its flight, as there is little bending in a heart that forgot love.
The constant misconception chiseled into rock with paper lies, in the loss of the ego's battle to disguise.
Hard is the mending of bridges burned so neatly, never more easily to forget.
But the rarely traveled bridges, with broken pathways of regret and neglect, are hardly ever whole again,
Despite carefully taken steps...
It's now easier to forget..
Her..