Literature
fallen leaves
The leaves flutter in time to the
screaming and shouting, laughing and talking people;
each red-gold memory dancing a mid-air waltz to
celebrate the day we separated.
Floating away like our love once did -
slowly, quietly, they leave only a barren body bared
for the ache to follow.
Even the winds moaned their last signs of life into the hurricane
of depression; the cold heartache of loneliness.
Barefoot, but I don't feel life and every step I take
whispered the end.
you said that "hope is not the thing in the sky",
but it was moonbeam fingers that brushed away
the hanging clouds and set up the shining stars,
too bright to look a
