City of Broken Dreams

Poetry

Poetry

Photo by A n v e s h on Unsplash

Jealousy dims the scarlet fading light,
like silken dust upon a crackled hour.
It drifts across the hourglass of my soul
and counts the sorrowed seconds, one by one,

While love passes by, I walk
down streets where beggars sleep,
and see the painted whores who smile a lot.
Dying stars are no surprise to those 
who have walked these streets before.