For the sunset
of morning.
For the yellow light
of bewildered stars.
For flight stopped
at the window.
For the lighthouse frightened
by the waves.
For the liquid fire
in varicose veins.
For time hidden
within shattered statues.
For the road
curved by sunset.
For the dissonant
requiem.
For wonder.
Guilty,
guilty
of existing.
Of everything.
Of all that does not endure.
Tainted Emotions
published