the final fall. (poetry).

gaspthe leaves knelt, not near, but close;
enough for the sweeper to sweep
without distraction.

the closed windows broke–
splintered glasses made the winds blew.

the frames of photographs–
dressed in white,
clothed with tuxedo–
vibrated; almost slipping from
the tears of the table.

two silver rings;
one covered with rusts.

the way we wanted worked,
only in a different light–
a swirling darkness inside.

welcome to why we fell apart.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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