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Share Better Than My Last Day

by Walter Jones (Age: 72)
copyright 04-25-2014

Age Rating: 18 +


Fingers move the blinds of age bought and sold

Kin the saddest part of heart
Love burns in depth to see
A mark upon the silver left to cry
Burn the wildest place to be
Heard me sleep in wild of love

Trickle of time measures depth given rest

In the bed of roses lay
Thorns of today
Bury my mind
Sun burns my eyes
Her eyes lie

Less upon a roll taken to receive

Just the river flow
Heart screams
Sun beam
Need done
Saw her sleep in wild of love

Deceived by dark of sky parted by purity believed


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Total Reads: 491

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        04-29-2014     Mae Futter Stein        

This is so sad, Walter. The lingering memories of sadness only lowers our self esteem. If one could only pick out the good memories and dwell on them, we'd feel so much more full of love and see things so much more pleasurable.
Nice write with the trickle of time that measures depth. Thank you for sharing; Better then your last day. Loved it. Hugs....

        04-25-2014     Frank Fields        

Gut-wrenching, heart-twisting, powerful visions of the hurtest hurts. Sometimes the only thing that can be done is to give, not words, but presence. And so, let me stand with you until the heart has healed.

Frank :)

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