It was a long time ago…
Somewhere scattered
In artifacts of memories and the shrapnel of delicate hearts
Exploding into glass panes of deep red and the black veins that create the image
Now separated and indistinguishable, it’s just red thorns with no bloom
Empty space with no room
Red passion to dark gloom
Strings cut from the loom
So it is safe to assume
A heart that would thump with a boom
Became a melody with no tune
And no bars
No place, with no light, a night sky without stars
A distance without — how far?
That’s how far we grew apart
© The Sad Owl
Categories: poetry
The Sad Owl
I'm just here. Until I'm not.
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