Dead skin and instant coffee
that grows quietly cold.
Bare branches and undried clothes
with traces of mould.
Winter's fingerprints linger,
her crimes untold.
Sour cynicism; a discoloured soul
that grows quickly cold.
Charred dreams; a shrivelled sensitivity
now layered with mould.
Love's fingerprints linger,
her crimes untold.
beautiful. :)
ReplyDeleteash says u sshould rather use "Stories untold"
:) Thank you ... and tell ash I was playing on "fingerprints" and "crime".
ReplyDeleteadaf
ReplyDelete