Crystal She was skitish blossoms in a brisk young spring breeze, Her dappled leaves of summer sun. But summer never came. The scream of breaking branches I never heard, too far from the ground to hear my laughter like a jackle rising. Like haunting mists the memory lays, screaming like a banshee's curse it chilled that southern star. Darkness creeps upon the soul, the silver, glistening moonlight does it's duty surgically removing his pain warm and consuming it bid me to sleep. Around and around the haunted house of my mind, in tattered fairground fun, twisted no more fake ghouls, real skeletons, real faces they had names, a name, the name, a name I held dear to my heart now terrorises, taunts and beckons. No skipping seasons, winter always my punishment for sins I judge upon my own returned 10,000 miles of fluffy white wonder like the first time snuggled by your side. The pain still taunts me these seventeen years, no more words, no more tears.
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