Dust

In a darkened space
With lips that are very very.
We see the faces that
are never ever seen.
The things that should be said,
instead drag along unsaid.

In and out, in and out.
A rudimentary remembrance.
A day that never goes right.
I had a good one, once long ago.
The luck of a devil.
The luck of an ancient saint.

We live a dream.
We see the children,
with dust filled faces.
The blood, their mouths
and the mourning.
For those who can never return.


Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google+ photo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

w

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: