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.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
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.
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.
