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.
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