I awake,
Dreams burdened with your eyes.

A recollection of temperance
From a soul as empty
as the spirits in a glass.

My mind remains heavily weighted,
with unfair remnants
of celestial lies.

Cold,
Creeping,
Despair.

"He would have been a boy",
She said…

I sometimes wish
I was a glass.
It's easier to break without a soul.



Copyright (C) David DeSantis