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by Maple Tree Jul 30, 2019
Behind the nightmares that linger in my glass
like a loose fitting camisole
under a lonely, whispering moon;
are thoughts of a woman with strands of raven
caressing her face, feeling nothing but a breeze tease
of midnight air and the company of his eyes.
It was the absence of whiskey and stale cigarette
that kept me standing knee locked and petrified-
As usual I left him standing alone between death and sunlight.
and the nightmares of innocence play out
In a mind that can't let it go.
by Maple Tree