The Woman With the Tears In Her Voice.
the girl
sitting in the dark of night,
tears lingering on her words.
its how she wants to be remembered.
haunted by a ghost,
the woman with the tears in her voice,
droplets rolling from her tongue,
without love,
her heart a bitter fruit.
she still has the blue moon,
the poplar trees.
and the girl still has to live.
to feel her own love,
it lies beyond the promise of prom night,
where the brick walls and fish skeletons rest,
where the floating wreckage comes to stop.
in the city,
in the dark and heat,
cooled by a wet pillow,
an open window.
the life.
the love.
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