even while it rages
a pulse is feeling faint
strangled by yesterday’s desire
vision marred
from wandering lost among too many tomorrows
it’s supposed to hurt
pick up the pieces
they lie all around
as rubble
from cities of love
Pieces
even while it rages
a pulse is feeling faint
strangled by yesterday’s desire
vision marred
from wandering lost among too many tomorrows
it’s supposed to hurt
pick up the pieces
they lie all around
as rubble
from cities of love
looking in your window 
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
LikeLike