suspicion is an unmarked grave
unnamed
beckoning to be owned
by you,
despite
my love
she could not respond to
through empty windows shade
shadows can be made
from the utter disarray
of disillusions stream
as frantic time frames scatter in
execution, leaving
remnants of their dream
lived out, but now dead
symbolizing:
the fallen egos of our being
underlying all the echoes
that stir beneath the breeze,
unspeakable.