It snaps like the breaking of a chiken bone.
The worls pauses for a moment to contempate this silence.
And you're left all alone,
To bury your bones in an unmarked grave.
I hope time will heal its absence.
YOU ARE READING
Words Of A Moth Drawn To Flame
ПоэзияMoths come and go, This one is lost so it stays, It talks to candles but not the moon, Lost in it's own creation's maze.
