May 29

Photo by Adem AY on Unsplash

Pause in thought.
There's an echoing;
Walking through the hollows,

Our palms write psalms
On the face of the wall
Between us.
Reaching for a memory
Of Love's whisper, lost.

Sweet as sin;
Bitter as cursed vines,
These threads are woven
From crossed lines
That etch, our noose ends.