tryst

pale hart in the copse at dusk
under stars
that bristle on a chinless heaven

faith
I have none
these things are random

I turn up my collar on the night
knowing
she is already gone

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (Address never made public)

Name

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: