Clouds

TrystanBehm

The jukebox plays, poodle skirts spin

The dogs barked all night

A feeling of insecurity, of abandonment

Enveloped in a whirl of thick space

 

I breathed and blew until I could no more

And died

A withering smile as the autumn breeze froze my heart

Not wanting this night to end

I have come to the last leg of my journey

I wonder – is this it?

Rolling around my imagination

With abstract ideas of purity

Like virgin snows on the knoll

Untouched by the choking, bloody hands of some culture.

  • Author: TrystanBehm (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 12th, 2018 15:18
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 17
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Lorna

    Great line:

    Untouched by the choking, bloody hands of some culture.

    It's so painful how we can't hold on to beautiful moments.

    I'm wondering why you are harking back to the 50's?

    • TrystanBehm

      Thanks for the comment Lorna! As for why the 50's...not sure, images of poodle skirts, and dancing and people having fun were in my head and that's where I started.



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