If even once I stop
to feel, I am closer
to dying.
A thunderstorm rolls
over the horizon, upturned
my face absorbs its darkness.
I recognize a shadow
in the window; how it grew
then broke apart.
I cannot learn to live
forevor; follow me into
the cold, black night.
In the morning, mountains
in the distance, clouds
dripping orange light.
1 comment:
Orange Light
The product of a Dying Star
As it fades...
Into Darkness
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