April Cerise, In Memoriam
they danced into oblivion
June 2013

no red shoes
nor a curfew
entrapped in a painting
or perhaps a mirror.

the faceless names
or the nameless faces
at nightfall, or maybe
just before sunrise.

that dream of evening,
blackened shadows
and light a softened silver.

i said your name, and you didn't look.

how sad normality must be.
PREV / NEXT   18 / 31