The setting sun paints the sky a velvet pink--
delicate, so close my palms sweat with their
phantom warmth
Warmth, for the clouds are red,
and these days are short
Warmth, for these eyes have seen countless
days of bitter cold
Of bitter hearts, of bitter minds
A sip of viscid anger, too
delicate, so close my palms sweat with their
phantom warmth
Warmth, for the clouds are red,
and these days are short
Warmth, for these eyes have seen countless
days of bitter cold
Of bitter hearts, of bitter minds
A sip of viscid anger, too
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.