Destitute

Above beating hearts race, tender whispers sound, flesh on flesh; touch to touch. Destitute rings below a hollow gong that has no sound. A silent scream etched in wood. And somewhere between young lovers that lyric do long to meet. A still plucked from breathing breathe; fortitude’s death. To-be lovers locked in chains of self. And still above beating hearts race and tender whispers sound. Fate sealed in one’s own truth. Better this than a no-loves that.

Destitute

drjones

Hertfordshire, United Kingdom

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 4

Artist's Description

A slightly more unflowing addition to my usual writing-style. It echoes the frustration buried within me…

Artwork Comments

  • BiographyofRed8
  • drjones
  • Tiffany Rach
  • ModernMythology
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