By Klaus Pieslinger

Theme by nostrich.

Fonts via Kernest.

8th February 2012

Photo reblogged from Reinfried Marass,Photographer with 491 notes

reinfriedmarass: Pond Of Tears What have I become? She asked herself in soft spoken tune while laying the unknown depths of her thoughts down beside her. Life has become lifeless and unfulfilling. In her hiding place, there is no soul to be smelled, not even a fowl in the air. The expanding deep sigh’s hurts with the caverns of her cavity, holding the secrets that are withheld from others eyes… Only yesterdays sweeps upon the shores of her eyelids, refusing to let them shut. “Oh’ not another sun shall arise that cannot be seen; for the sands has taken their toll”. As her sight starts to fade to the colorless end of hues, so there on the dock in death’s hands she waits for time to receive her like the black cloth upon her delicate skin. Reluctant to the coldness of silent winds, that brushes against her shoulders in a sweepingly manner… The sweetness of memories at last has been cast away within the ripples of the water, no longer are they soothing as the salt from her gaze stream like fire down the high rises of her cheeks and for every one of them that plunged into her hands was added to her pond of many tears… Dark fiction by Ebony Rose

reinfriedmarass:

Pond Of Tears

What have I become? She asked herself in soft spoken tune while laying the unknown depths of her thoughts down beside her. Life has become lifeless and unfulfilling. In her hiding place, there is no soul to be smelled, not even a fowl in the air. The expanding deep sigh’s hurts with the caverns of her cavity, holding the secrets that are withheld from others eyes…

Only yesterdays sweeps upon the shores of her eyelids, refusing to let them shut. “Oh’ not another sun shall arise that cannot be seen; for the sands has taken their toll”. As her sight starts to fade to the colorless end of hues, so there on the dock in death’s hands she waits for time to receive her like the black cloth upon her delicate skin. Reluctant to the coldness of silent winds, that brushes against her shoulders in a sweepingly manner…

The sweetness of memories at last has been cast away within the ripples of the water, no longer are they soothing as the salt from her gaze stream like fire down the high rises of her cheeks and for every one of them that plunged into her hands was added to her pond of many tears…

Dark fiction by Ebony Rose

Tagged: featuredphotographypoetry

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Source: reinfriedmarass.com

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    Phantastische Arbeit! Ich fühle mich geehrt, ein ‘like’ von ihm zu bekommen.
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    This is so beautiful ♥
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