Husks of What Was

January 3, 2013
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When the ice no longer hold me captive
in these ever stretching miles
barren of you
barren of life
and all I feed on
these husks of memories
whisps of ghosts that strangle my heart
poisonous fumes, waiting in the rooms where you kissed my heart,
my soul
but with the birds you flew
away from this waste
this place
so, I will wait
until the gold reclaims the sky

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