xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx (ex_confessio234) wrote in cesmots,
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ex_confessio234
cesmots

One white lily in a vase
On her table
By her side
One simple room
In which she sat
In which she quietly remembers
Four simple walls
Walls of white
But know so much
And could scream aloud
All of the things they have witnessed
One wrinkled hand
With five fingers
On a dark oak table
Veins of the wood making crazy patterns
Against the veins of the hands
Which somewhere, somehow lead to the heart
That slowly beats
For no one.
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