Reflection (Remove filter)
HOLLOW HALLS
She drags tired heels
across a tainted floor,
poise slightly bowed
and her back is sore.
She holds on her face
a cold marble stare,
a hard life engraved
upon cheeks once so fair.
Her faulting movements,
once graceful; divine,
her aching limbs now
with guile, defy
her final performance
on this dark empty stage,
memories fleeting
of a much better age...
Sunday 28th June 2015 9:36 am
Sex and Cigarettes
The smell of sex and stale cigarettes, Two bodies connected in life and death, Chapped lips meet between the sheets, Lust in our bones, the Reaper in the air. How rare an oxymoron, neither with clothes on, We follow recreation with deadly inhalation, Skin touching skin, lips wrapped around uncertainty, Two separate entities leaned inwards somehow gently, Feeling so alive, ...
Monday 27th April 2015 10:07 pm
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