something from the archives...

[immortalraven]

you are my half finished glass of whiskey

you called me
and my heart shrank into a pale flower
beating beside
the roadside
guttered and torn
like a homeless cricket
with winter approaching,
you are my half finished glass of whiskey
ice melting
encased by a warm
wilting palm,
you are my too late nights
and my not enough
i lost you
i lost you
i lost you
i could count the days
but it would seem cliche
seconds spent without you as i
watched you walk away
i never put up a fight
i said it didn't matter
and the footsteps of your exit
muddied my clean chest
train stations will be getting the better of me
until i put the echoes
of your departure to rest.