A blood-red sunsets
saying enough and calling quits
I smooth out my line cut of evening cool with
harsh fabric getting my bearings.
The cloth turning to jewels and renounced
the dream. The image death wears a window
in its lonely outings.
Author notes
Prompt:
When clarity does not kill,
Diamond dust salts vision.
A contest entry
- Quickieeee by Cerulean Sunrise.
700 points, ended August 20, 6 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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