A night was all that it took
To crush to ruins
What was built
On the premise of love and lust
He left
Leaving behind
A broken Wine glass
Blown out candles
A whining record
And a twisted hand
A shadow receded
To the untouched canvas
And drew a few Shaky sketches
Mountains, springs
Valleys and vacations
And all that seem real
Were nothing
But a portrait
Charcoal On Canvas
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