Thursday 21 May 2020

Taut : A Poem

Withering breaths
fire the kiln
of taut senses
unfurling
from burns
of betrayal.

Wildflower eyes,
empty pools
of spent sorrow
escaping
into blurred
days of erasure.

Weary heart
loses reek of
tireless tears,
flowing
into fragrance
of poignant peace.

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