You pack your bags, and leave.
You head for a land that is less chaotic...
This isn't a painting.
Don't prance around with...
8:00 PM
only lives...
I can tell by the slump of my words
that they're tired of standing in this imagery...
I could feel my heart folding itself
like one of those kirigami stars...
I find her -
a heart of wild flowers...
Evermore,
she rests her head tenderly...
The day mourned as if every tree base
was a rueful cry that became softened...
Be it childish scribbling
Crafted, stylized or mere black ink...
There you were,
Inanimate...
Let my soul to rest
before the roseate glow of dawn...
.....P
.......E...