You cannot save me.
I’d wish you try.
To glimpse the torches’ dusty eyes.
To hear the church of their wild dismay
alight the smoky tongues of creek.
Like a braille of us,
which said, at least,
you came near.
You cannot save me.
I’d wish you try.
To glimpse the torches’ dusty eyes.
To hear the church of their wild dismay
alight the smoky tongues of creek.
Like a braille of us,
which said, at least,
you came near.
