Her

by PorcelainMoon   Jan 30, 2016


Rounded edges lonely roads
Collapsing caskets and mortal masks to wear
Tuned into the radio to hear your voice again
Dreamed a dream, smoked a cigarette alone ...
Mercy and madness in this city under the stars.
Footprints and fingertips
into ashes without her smiling eyes

    report violation
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Latest Comments

  • 8 years ago

    by Augustus Black

    Hello Pal,

    This write is quite fabulous. I see a great theme of love and nature here. This should have been written for someone special. Keep it up.

    Nicely composed.

    Everything is excellent except that cigarette stuff.

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