A Sinning for The Season

Fool me twice...

Sounds of wheels spinning as the sunset diminishes softly... her kisses biting me. 

A trail of hope glows and I follow it's path, ignoring the signs warning me that beyond the sun I shall face the wrath and all its consequences.

 

With warm winds caressing my sensitive skin my heart made of blossoms beats per minute. 

The green grass waves goodbye and bring out an endearing smile that's been hidden inside. 

Silly wishes, fleeting feelings. 

Blue undertones needed a healing.

At the center of a cross, I stand to wonder was I a fool for tieing a string on hope and carrying it everywhere I go?

For the velvet sun knows everywhere I go.

The balloon drifted a while ago.

What a sick feeling.

Reviews

[The Twin Arenas]

the double meaning of the word sick occurring over the past few years has been an invaluable boon to poets.