There’s dirt beneath the lashes in dreams that can't be there dark alley's empty spaces once a foreign god’s despair.
Two more ounces taken
Where does the magic go
Dreams have ways of dying
Ribbons wrap around the soul.
Gliding from earth to sky
Water flowing down the side
Holding hands to take a breath never knowing where to hide.
Bitter is the taste of sunshine
I’m not sure if I will die
I raise myself up from the earth as I carry out this lie.
©ronvdm777
Aug 2020
©ronvdm777
R