Tears
Night is coming still
Icicles drip the seconds
Tears of a broken heart
...
Dust on moth wings fall
In shards and none hears it
Tears in the shower
...
A moon rolls throat down
I swallowed air in the gulp
Tears are bitter still
...
Looking in the sun
Makes the eyes wet and not dry
Like thinking of love
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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