Stolen Love (Cinquain Garland)

Unfit chambers littered with memories of theives that Trust invited to come in my heart. Rustic quarters exposed, no pomp, no flash, no glitz just safe comfort to nestle in alone. Now walls stand bare and cold inside my empty heart What value has love in pockets of theives? Condemned, my haven has become a prison cell, graffiti memories still stain the walls. Behind boarded windows, and locked doors I sit confused, shivering while theives haunt my soul. Unfit quarters exposed inside my empty heart. Graffiti memories still stain my soul.