01 Saturday Oct 2016
Posted in Uncategorized
She was smiling when
They cut him down
And laid his ice-heart
On the ground
As like his passions
When they had come
In furies’ rage had taken
Her girl
And now with vengeance’s
Empty eye
She stared into the space
That she
Could never hope to fill
And she was smiling
As she fell.
'til death we do art
spit, mixed with dirt - muddy words flow
What comes to me as a still, small voice in the atmosphere of daylight and evening. © Mario Savioni and Musings, 2013. Unauthorized use or duplication of this material without the consent of the author is prohibited. Small (100 words or less) excerpts or links are permitted as long as credit is given to Mario Savioni with direction to the original content. Please refrain from “reblogging” posts.
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