Broken Lions

Grew out of one juicy line the rest: like a tasteless dress, too short, in a word, trash.

The look on his face felt like a hole in the sky
once confident words now slip on her disapointed lips,
like broken lions,
blinded by expeirience.
Time hits like an express,
and brushes genlty,
A paint of poison
Damp and heavy
She feels the wind grow......
cold.