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Painting - C
Hot and wet.
Warm sulphur filled breezes from a distant small town paper mill blew through cracked slats in time past life�s faded worn gray shutters.
It was our last night,
My final memory sealed for eternity,
Her soft sun bronzed skin which smelled of confederate jasmine,
young in summer,
permeated the aired sounds of the French Quarter.
The last place life mattered; to me anyway.
It was Savannah's time,
and she had slayed another dragon�s heart,
Confident that nothing would breach the dark chasm cast between broken lives where hearts crushed in silence simply surrendered to the inevitable,
One hers, the other mine.
It was our last dance���.
November 14th, 2011
Viewed 282 Times - Last Visitor from Myrtle Beach, SC on 01/21/2015 at 7:34 PM
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