Trenches
Published in
1 min readSep 22, 2016
Our tears
Build pillows, shelters.
In hiding
Sleep will come.
In dusk’s thick blood
Our longing moans
Still call
The dying sun.
Until it all,
In fireworks,
Paints worlds
Of pain and thunder.
and when soft star slowly recovers
what we left waiting for its dawn
who could be hoping to discover
where dewdrops end and teardrops spawn?
