The Scarlet Thread Anthology: War-Torn Kite

And in the streets, as the lights fade away into concrete sutures,

The eternity of a smile, the fleeting whisper,

Speaks a kiss embroiled in shadow.

Standing between life and death,

Obscure faces gaze at forgotten corners,

And wither into crevices of the mind.

Standing there beside me, each whisper collides

and suffuses the air.

Standing there beside me, a lonely half-smile

when the shadows cannot stare.

Golden vines reach toward a city of impulses,

As she speaks her name into the light.

I fly my dreams like a war-torn kite.

By Peter Wysocki

Photo via (cc) Flickr user jbelluch (Jake Bellucci)


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