The sky alight with shadows of the day
where fading suns bleach colors from the bruise
on wounded hearts whose pigments bleed to gray
to hide from view the purples, reds, and blues.
Where lurking demons rise from haunted fens
and spread the gap of what was torn apart
to build a home between the jagged ends
as taloned hands pretend to seal the heart
of broken tattered souls who mourn the day
and count their daily sorrows by moonlight.
The subtle visions of the sun's last rays
still lurk inside, despite the darkest night,
as solar flares prevent our hearts demise
and sear away the sadness in our eyes...
Copyright © 2021 by Keith E. Sparks Jr.
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