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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.
Cold skin, open arms
The warmest I’ve felt in years
Unwilling to fall for such common charm
I could fall for anyone near
...
He soared the skies on borrowed wings
In pursuit of the fiery heavens;
His foolish ambition blinding him far more than the...
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...
The words written across the page
Regardless of their age
They come with a hidden meaning
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ART: Cueva De Las Manos
Remembrance
By: Sydney Jones
I want to be remembered
My life not drowned by time
Swimming...