when the seed turns to dust and we can only lust after the thoughts of the beginning to only find the end
the m is the w only backwards or upside down maybe if one is colored we can tell them apart we can tell them which way to go
she set the easel up steadying the back leg with an old glue tube while raising up in her chair she spots it, there it was,
glossed over as if covered in a way that makes it new some say white others blue
learning from history only to follow their steps as eternity rolls or calls us home
the land stars blink and rise under the pale pink sky singing as they dance to the tune of each others hearts
no going around the bush here picking the posies to expose the bleeding tears - sear with the hot rung a rose left dripping with the memories
missing little piece’s buried in the box no edging left can’t get through the locks to retrieve through ground
i think time stop or is standing s… so still that you can’t see the wh… as the sun kisses upon your sill maybe paw prints will design the f… once again this might be a hard pi…
in this globe i am alone or they are in a globe with different rules, ideas and plans no cracks get in the way
as the hearts truth was once told on gray with red letters to match the blood spilt from it’s top, with the cap
gentle caress of the lavenders radiance on the breeze’s soft skin –aspire the artist to
i know how it is to be done but wonder if it really is won the mixing and dealing is dealt with all these feelings what shall… with out the silver lining - desti…
if only to have him see that the inside of the marble wont roll, tilted but the pink of the rose will go up the nose
hidden emotions brakes the soul rips and tears remain effecting the physical and making it decay