They’re Gone

yellowed bits of paper
blown along by sour winds
whistling through empty swings
dying of cancerous rust

echoed laughter
oft repeated
behind the silence
fills my memories

in the hazy distance
another building falls like cards
reminding me there’s
no one else to hear it

loneliness
is much worse than
the death I imagine every day
so why do I keep fighting

am I a coward
or am I merely
the last romantic
that will ever be?

(c) 2016 – dustygrein

grein-dusty

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s