Vincent
He splashes light against the sky,
breaks a heart that makes her cry
remembering yesterday's goodbyes,
begs her to explain. She just sighs.
She was a whore he loved, paste white.
He splashes light against the night
making stars that swirl like madness.
He splatters yellow suns on his sadness
with crows in skies warning us of doom.
He cuts his ear off in a white room.
Copyright © William Donovan | Year Posted 2020
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