Ashley, 5 stycznia 2012
Little lonesome girl
didn't know
she was cold
untill he came
like an open flame.
Warm against cold
they created steam
and he washed her
like soap, all clean.
But then
he left
in the fog.
She couldn't see.
It was
too thick,
and,
all too sudden,
like the steam
was for
the sick.
She was
doused in it,
blinded by it.
It didn't clear
when she wiped
at the mirror.
She wasn't there.
It was a stranger to scare.
Steam still present,
she collapsed in it,
and inhaled it's bitter scent.
Ashley, 1 stycznia 2012
Broken trust
false hope,
there was no way
she could cope.
Closed heart
vowed never to open,
never to hear
love words spoken.
A different path
she came across,
a new person
afraid of loss.
Two seperate hearts
brought together by trust,
promising never to leave
each other in the dust.
Assurances made, faith restored
her heart fluttered and soared.
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