She wrote scripture; as he sang her a memory.
under a moon that was meant for dark souls...

When I gaze upon a summery shade of sorrow
wilted dreams within my acoustic tears...

Another night;
falls upon whispering shadows...

My thoughts become;
Acid upon a window pane...

Between tides of the rising sun
mixing with a monogamous moon...

A bloody cloak twas draped upon scorched shoulders
I lay barren, within a hopeless, romantic moon...

Echos of one hundred ancestors
flooded my ears with heartbreak...

Iris pools filled burgundy lips
with bitter taste of summer salt...

Within a corner resides a shutter
paintchips form a pool of lead...

What does it mean
to have a thousand pounds...

Planted by hands unknowingly sprouted
a birthing of graceful complexity...

I've known for some time now
that writing has given me the strength...