Smoke
I miss so much. All the time. Each beat of my heart, each tick of the clock. Day in, day out. It’s exhausting. It grays-out the hours. It makes dreams ascendent and the waking world…smoke. No direction. No comfort. Lost. I am a bridge, burned.
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I miss so much. All the time. Each beat of my heart, each tick of the clock. Day in, day out. It’s exhausting. It grays-out the hours. It makes dreams ascendent and the waking world…smoke. No direction. No comfort. Lost. I am a bridge, burned.
© 1996-2012 John W. Randal All Rights Reserved.