Poezja

Letters etched into her mornings lie frayed
The author’s ritual, a prerogative waned
Words lie lost on abandoned shores
Little temples destroyed by harsh faith

She walks alone to the dawn each day,
Rising from promises muddied by his absence
Looking out for him, insane reasons to find him
Tracing futures out from his distant footprints

Waiting by the shores, her fragility bared
Silent footfalls echo his lost music notes
Hope torn apart, too mangled to sing
Crashing waves, her sanity stung

Wake him up memories, don’t turn him traitor
Mazes wind all destinies known to mankind
She lives on the brink of stolen futures
Spiraling alone, falling into her last dance…