Vanished Promise

The memories cut deep

Sleep slips through my fingers

And your empty soul

is a sieve made of spider webs

It's not much to you

But to me it is home

for one night.

In the morning you wake

And I'm gone through the back door

It was all a mistake

The windows are frosted

It snowed in the night

Erasing my footsteps

It was the wrong time of year.