Untitled 2

In melancholy skies
where the pacifist kills.
In monotone cries,
through cracked windowsills.
Thats where she dwells,
denizen of dillusionary despair.
In a freezing, lonely hell,
humid tears thinken the air.
But those cracks are fault lines,
photograph memories of yours and mine.
Those faults quietly define
the steady stars shine.
A kid with a rock in hand,
a fist to break free,
and a chest to understand
to disappear on an open sea.
And those cracks were fault lines,
a clip on loop of yours and mine,
and our fault lines quietly define
the way the glowing stars shine.

Reviews

[Helena]

Beautiful read. An outstanding poem indeed my friend.
Well done in every respect. ~ Helena