She lived within a cave dwelling
past few years or so...
With a bottle of whiskey
Pressed to my lips...
She was driving to go and be with him
And had not seen him for a while...
Confusion parading through my mind.
Word had been always of elders...
You were never that loud,
almost always asleep...
People always say you'll know,
and now, I understand...
The dread creeps into consciousness
sparked by failure to remember...
I woke to thunder
yet the forecast only...
Death-
He comes in forms of fake smiles...
A grieving soul speaks
Its words painfully penned, a stark reality has...
These glass orbs,
eggshells...
Here we go again.
Twrling my fork...