The words written across the page
Regardless of their age
They come with a hidden meaning
One to help us understand the...
I hold the memory of us
Like a lit matchstick;
Close enough to keep me warm,
But,
Eventually
It burns me.
Cold skin, open arms
The warmest I’ve felt in years
Unwilling to fall for such common charm
I could fall for anyone near
...
Back bent carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders,
Shirt soaked as open wounds ooze oppression,
Fingers callused...
ART: Cueva De Las Manos
Remembrance
By: Sydney Jones
I want to be remembered
My life not drowned by time
Swimming...
A tomb of opportunities spent --
Wretched anguish fills my soul
At the sight of that ominous,
Gaping hole. Inside, with...