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Shu Lee Apr 2015
Time suddenly warps
The red-stained glass diffuses through the autumn air
Like leaves from the maple nearby.
Heaven hasn't decided yet.
Buried faces in violent hands
That yield no power in these circumstances.
The weight of the day lingers until the next.
Waiting
Waiting
The clock strikes noon.
Angel's kiss finally falls upon lips like
Ice.
The unconscious soul is fleeting
Vanishing from existence as swiftly as it came to exist.
And the cold street remains in prolonging evanescence
Haunted.

— The End —