Monday, 12 January 2015

forgotten

finally your blank canvas
your ideal naked your
calligraphy run dry
inkless but bloody;
for you.
i love the feeling of feeling
to cry;lest i forget

your forgiveness.
 

grieving greif

bountiful snow with stagnant silver wings and baby steps leaning us forward. i have been in this attic before and the leaks were distancing ...