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I stand before the early morning light; squinting to see the hope promised on the horizon. Shadows from the pillars of salt behind me; a multitude of errors seeking my attention. All the fallen stars buried beneath the wasted wishes; their tombs unmarked and broken by good intentions. The black rose I carried tightly within my palm has died from the suffocation; I’m afraid to let it go, hoping it can be resuscitated. The stench of stubbornness on my flesh; our hands no longer touching, our lips no longer tasting the moments. Always and forever... etched in loneliness.
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
Passing Away
I stand before the early morning light; squinting to see the hope promised on the horizon. Shadows from the pillars of salt behind me; a multitude of errors seeking my attention. All the fallen stars buried beneath the wasted wishes; their tombs unmarked and broken by good intentions. The black rose I carried tightly within my palm has died from the suffocation; I’m afraid to let it go, hoping it can be resuscitated. The stench of stubbornness on my flesh; our hands no longer touching, our lips no longer tasting the moments. Always and forever... etched in loneliness.
david-w-jones
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
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