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Not a skyline. Barely a place.

glancing over the town lights,

filtering darkness into a

sick pink haze, they lay and swell in valleys

like gaudy jewels on the neck of a

woman laying at a wake.

Maybe her lies are the

most believable truth

we'd never take.

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Written by

my-name-here

Published: Nov 24, 2014
LinesWords: 842

Notes: I never called it a house, just a place
that stole some time. But thieves that
steal time, at least know what the most
precious things are.

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