Dream

we sat across the bench in the park
you passed me a letter written in sarlet ink
I was too afraid to read the taboo for breakup

it started to rain
the smudge of blood trickled down
marking a curse and a dead past
it was a slow death of bleeding out
youth, hope and dying wishes

Author: Cassa Bassa

🇦🇺🇨🇳 inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfit child 😊 View all posts by Cassa Bassa