by rodney tinnon
(mckinney texas usa)
The beat of purple rain can be heard, an inviting sound, like your heart once was. I can feel the music flowing through my veins, like your blood no longer flows through your own. Looking into your past-dead eyes I can feel the pain you no longer have. My heart cries out in agony and sorrow as I bring myself to give you a kiss, a kiss that falls on cold dead lips.