cold as the sun on the last day of its burning

its themes exhausted

a quiet holocaust

solar flares are grey as ashen faces

sleep walkers guided by the moon their only light trespassing cemeteries

obelisks and plinths adorn tombs as pale and fragile as ghosts

glittering quiet and sombre black winds wisp about their curves as a seduction encircles

the night of dreaming

Leave a comment