Sunset on the hill. Favorite time of day. Bats, bugs, birds. Flit, flap, buzz. All the searching. Seeking. Surrender ledto the top of a hill.
Never stopped being in love with what we were. A memory. a fantasy, So long ago. Years and places and people ago. Roads diverged after
You murdered me because of the color of my skin. Not because of my culture. Not because of my religion. Not over territory rights or
I’m sure you can’t tell from the title of this article that it’s an end of life story. The poignant thing is that THIS part