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Cold skin, open arms
The warmest I’ve felt in years
Unwilling to fall for such common charm
I could fall for anyone near
...
The words written across the page
Regardless of their age
They come with a hidden meaning
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I hold the memory of us
Like a lit matchstick;
Close enough to keep me warm,
But,
Eventually
It burns me.
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...
Back bent carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders,
Shirt soaked as open wounds ooze oppression,
Fingers callused...