'Indifference'
By christy
The late sky is warm, blushed like naked shoulders beneath gorging eyes. Soon night will emerge, stretch, and hover as a butterfly discarding the golden cocoon. wings glossy with the blood of time will paint the air with memories, tragic moments waking as thirsty vampires who forget these veins ran dry long ago. Written December 5th, 2001 © on Dec 05 2001 02:34 AM PST 0 • 10
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"The late sky is warm,..."