Friday, 7 November 2014

etched upon your face

she was a windy wednesday morning with the
rain dripping from dusted eyelashes, sighing at
the creak of trains pulling away in all
their melancholy. 
why aren't they allowed to stay anywhere for long

dawn broke and there was no reason
to stop, a solitary figure stretched into her horizons, 
maybe paradise exists amongst
the illuminated crisp packets and cigarette buts
holy in their second-rate glory

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