The long, twisted shadows tap my window with their finger tips. A faint whistle silences my dim bedroom. It's a cold night as my soul shivers.
By Marcio Velasquez6 years ago in Poets
As the white curtain slowly darkens, the lights dim; silencing the audience on pale darkness while they take cover for the air gets colder.
By Marcio Velasquez7 years ago in Poets