Friday, November 12, 2010

butterfly lashes

in a glass box holds the fiery, fierce flames that propelled the life of a thing
once touched by the very finger that kisses a little death on the mouths of man

1 comment:

  1. There becomes Time ,That Listening ,with all your Heart.

    A mirror of reflection of Time ,that shadow spoken Thoughts .

    Tears well up in my eyes ,breath catches in my throat ,bowing my head ,as all spoken ,Stings with another Thoughts

    not even sweet kisses ,were ever remember .

    All in the shadow of mirror,sweet things ,gets floated away ,distorted .

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