PATHS THAT CROSSED

 each night
each day
 hang on me like a shrouded clouds
scream each silent minute
your name fills all these vacant hours
scented sheets
dance on wished for dream
that grave I hope you saved
Wolves how deep inside
this broken shell
your whiskey kiss
smudged against the given mirror
time licks as the waves
touch my open sores
Death pokes loves curled finger
but pushes me further away
into dark and bleeding corners
nights injected sleep
weeping floors creased with tears
I take off my scars and flesh
heap them into the unmade bed
perhaps tomorrow they
can finally rest
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Comments
Nicely done Terry