First draft...

[poetic_soul]

Pale whisper/ of mis'placed truth
moonlight drifts
through broken panes, of Tiffany glass

Drying tears of a forgotten Saint/
palm print fading...
upon lined cracks in a Mahogany railing

Comments

[abandonest]

The distant echo of your words...it has been so long, but know that you have been in my mind. I am falling into the abyss, everything is chaos...your words always provide an anchor, truth that is worth fighting for.

Pale whisper

[poetic_soul]

The Muse of desire is a jealous Mistress. One which replicates... through a torn fusion of emotion and rational. Often discarding us.. sweaty, hungover... More in need than want. My words provide a moment's calm, because you recognize the outline of a familiar path. The whisper of an echo; which quiets your pain. An artist's journey.