THE MIDNIGHT STREETS ARE A MIRROR

BELIEVE me when i never told you how gracious
kept pain can be: that i never spoke
those words; the yellow eyes of crying lies
which were \we’d group/
with pretty people on wet midnight streets
like fragrant picked fruit distinctly grouped
very cadmium so reassuringly
— whoa this is bravery

with water-rainbow tints and all the laughter of
liquor-veined beauty ~~ :
today they are raising
a monument by the sea
called YOUTH

:: 07-06-2015 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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