these are my words
i dug up in a field of dead
the memories where you
fly and i don’t
it’s my least favorite
memory and life goes
while i twist at night
a kiss in millions of
small deceits and night
is it right where i feel so
most at home when begged
a sharp blade to meet me
the train of hope says
‘all aboard broken-hearts’
lovers’ (is it me?” I’m so shattered
feeling i’m drowing in deceit
so know this is my season of
less-living wrestling falling leaves
and Mother Nature
come save me
:: 08-17-2015 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 