Friday, November 21, 2014

Late

Your cold form trembled in the frigid blue air
But I made your eyes fill with silver fire
I ask her; do his eyes always twinkle so beautifully?
Like burning winter starlight, breathtaking, and so far away

The sunset, premature and quiet, has arrived alone
And the raw air claws at us; it tries to consume us
In this deserted world of empty souls
Your eyes are warmer than the long forgotten summer.

-A.K.

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