Secret Ingredients
Death
cold and sterile rooms-
the emptiness of being
alone here with you
–
makeshift rafts-
icy waters
devoid of life
Empty
as the door closes
I wonder if you’ll ever
walk through it again
–
midnight-
the rustle of leaves
in an empty street
Time
eyes closed, steady breaths-
trying to push the anger
back into the box
–
boiling seas-
lava slowly turns
to cold stone
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