Standing alone in the dark, feeling like she wants to hide from the world and herself
scared of letting feelings in or letting them show not wanting that weakness
drops of rain form like pools of blood in a small room with no view
moonlight flooding in among the trees like curtains around a funeral pyre
silent except for the sound of her heartbeat and her shallow breath flowing ...
nearly endless like a calm river traveling to greet the sea in its last moments
forlorn in the end and lost in a world much bigger than her small banks
parts of her intermingled and changed but never to reverse her course
hours turn to days and the n
Snow gently drifts down from winters dark sky like the regrets of a life long past.
Thoughts twisted this way and that like the frozen branches shaken only by a cold winters wind. Is life lost or does it slumber beneath the blanket of soft velvet, pure in it's demise?
Torturous time, it takes, always taking and never giving. Not unlike humanity, lost in its own world oblivious to those around them, thinking they see and understand but they cannot not really comprehend. Who really cares for the plight of another?
Leave them where they lie, forgiving nothing.