Saturday, April 27, 2013

Memories of the setting sun

The sun scorches,
Burns the skin, rashes galore,
Percolates through the meandering silhouette,
Into my mind,
Where I hold,
The memories that I cling to,
Your hazy self, muffled in the cigarette smoke,
That crawled in circular symphonies,
Against your curled lips, wet with rancid tea.
The sun sets, memories depart,
Time races away while I see you leave,
Just to remember you'll never come back,
Memories is what I will have.
The sun scorches, drowns me in its orange hue.