I long for the hope of a new day. But without fail the bedeviled sun sets plunging darkness upon me.
Her tender beauty is but the sole light in the pitch.
Her softness closes in and mocks my ignorant heart.
For she is blind to the endless strewn of wasted souls left in her wake.
I am one more captured spirit in her satchel of despair.
She arrives adorned in yesterday's mislaid memories. Yet her beauty is only enhanced.
She consumes my lonely passions, her smirk salient to all eyes but my own.
She will gladly feed on my bitter tears.
Her hunger complete, she maneuvers forward to her next wretched being.
-Johnny V.
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