Stormy gray

Never knowing when the last goodbye will leave our parted lips. Never knowing when we will lose our second chance. How do we love in the midst of chaos or hate in the serene hum of peace? Where have all our angels gone? We ache each morning for that eternal connection and we drink to our sorrows with each rising moon, wishing for another moment to express our souls, one more heart beat to span the vast eternity of solitude in the soft amber glow of forever. Passion writhing from the depths of our erupting core yet we find no outlet for our need, only the white space of numbness to know our mortal sins and feel the stain of our lament. Words fall on hardened hearts like the autumn storms regret. The gentle colors of melancholy rock us to sleep in the afternoon delay. We cannot lift our hands in protest or raise our voice in cheer. The vigor lost us long ago when we knew why we were here.

Stormy gray

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Washington DC, United States

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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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