the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Senses Soft

I faded in about a quarter past nine
When tension strung the curtains back,
The redless black of the opening act.
Your retracted statement was a gate left open,
Wrought iron charred from indecision's ghost.
Someone shot out the back of your throat
And you cracked back in with that indirect quote.

No comments: