Midnight Black

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She whispers in abstract,
shades of midnight black
and questions that remain,
persisting thoughts
that will not wait,
not always welcome
or logical,
rarely methodical,
never as love notes
or the soft touch of sin
But, nonetheless,
she is lost in them,
the way they flutter within,
these nameless, faceless
moments of time
that steal her breath,
beating within her chest,
a vault full of memories,
escaping
free

Breath of Words© 4/26/17

photo by Arianna Ceccarelli