The train moves away; the station stands still and black.
The girl in green stares at the black smoke:
Twirling and twisting and teasing the thin air.
The thick tears of memories swell the air;
This world spins and blurs and spins and fades
into the murmuring darkness—
where the memories lose their way to fireflies,
and get erased from the page forever.
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A/N: Did the votes get erased too? Oh no, pretty please? Live a little long, yellow star! SO why not color it once again?
YOU ARE READING
the slow art of breathing bitter
Poetryslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||
