More late night musings...

Reading between the lines
scarred frail parchment
takes on new meaning.
Words are a disguise
hiding the truth.
No soul sees the hurt,
none cares for the wound.
A world not meant to be loved in,
emptiness is served in many courses.
Retreating to the dark – a safe harbor to inhabit while bitter salve stings within.

View original post

Advertisements