lingers

She'll be writing with her own blood

own burns from the fresh wound of yesterdays

of tunes that would repeat like a broken melody

broken within her little mind filled with illusions

with calmness  she'll be scattered again

scattered thoughts until nothing really remembers

really deep through her amber eyes that brings warmth

brings want once in their lives and that coal black hair

black night they loved to caress and breathe in like balsam

like honey that only grows old but never ceases

never to fade but with fear comes curiosity 

comes loneliness and anger and listlessness

and that flickering hope that will never disappear as well

as long as her head's brimming with dreams 

with childish innocence and growing passion

growing like bud in a dessert with oasis at hand

at night, and day, as long as no one would step on that fire

that heart of hers shall be enclosed with lead but it'll never die.