A Work In Progress, Like Life
She winked, and smiling with
her eyes,
kissed my parched lips,
I could not return her kiss,
and though the years have spun
their cobwebs,
fashioning vacuums out of
forgotten dreams,
It is that kiss that I most miss.
Tonight, I lie awake,
lathered in layered memories,
of love lost, and of love gained,
of open skies,
and of rains crashing through
my weak rhymes,
that have strained,
across the vast emptiness,
seeking absolution,
for my emotional crimes...
(This Scribble is a Work in
Progress. Just Like Life)
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