Slithering in cold lines
Not ready to let go
For missing what it gave
And no one would know.

The cold moon on ruins
On Ghost walked streets
Damp, dark, mortared homes
Loneliness where seeps.

Seeking place to place
To find what went away
In cold skin that waits
Eyes turned stone grey.

Sun blisters city so alone
Where he searches maiden home
Lost in debris windy dust
Never ended his solemn roam.

The panic dried cry sight
And a post that remains
Same even in years of grief
Even even in heartbreak stains

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