| Rainbows, lollipops, bruises and blood, white satin webs spun in a moon smile garden, winds she can see, chills a foul air crisp. A girl walks through paths of dust, where statuesque words once crumbled, and she prays the wind away. Journals fell into hands of confidence betrayed, snatching back hearts, page by page torn and flung into a salvation fire with a tear for every lick of flame, mail on the side table flies into the heat. Running through dancing cinders dead trees sing to her. |
| DEAD TREES SING TO HER |
 |
 |