IMG_3688

my hands are moving, so fragile now

in the darkness (light)

 

two scales play

cold air chime

 

twisted trees carved in delight

braided hair grime

 

poised in the mirror

barren altar

 

the coffee tasteless

my fingers crumble

 

touching the ash on my bedside

it smelled like roses

 

sweet glass lens

look at me

 

in the darkest night.

 

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