Moths and blood cover the ground like dirt,
The anchors being lifted up from the sweet horizon.
There is no place left for the young and the dead,
Only life for those who were never welcome.
The dried up gourd in the garden,
Decaying in the eaves of its corpse.
Only lying there to remind us,
Of how time distorts.
Shadows cast overhead,
While humming a soft lullaby.
Their notes are jumbled and murmured silently,
Leaving no warm goodbye.
I look down deep into the heart,
The world divided into two.
Each part being replaced,
Leaving just me and you.
P.S. I of course found these picture on the one, the only…tumblr.com