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...

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The heat of a sultry summers day

and the news wasn’t good,

you were going away.

Vow’s made by the lovers brook

are just trickling memories

of a love that you took.

A heart that once was full of life

is now but an empty shell

on the edge of a knife.

A vignette, closing in on a world,

as into the deep dark abyss

my mind was hurled.

Dreams and g...

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