Knives

Series of knives, aimed at my heart Lying on the ground, bleeding With glimmers of a broken dream, of what once was Floating and shimmering in maroon hell Twinkling like stars in the vacant sky Crusting along the winding route Trying to find hope, something Trailing warmth, till it dries

Vacant wedding

“Maybe I’ll have a song like this in my wedding,” she quickly thought and told her friend, while dancing out of sync with a drink in one hand. Her lips were frozen in a half smile, and her eyes were distant. She almost fell down, but her friend gathered her up. That would have been