7:12 a.m.
monday morn —
bedroom parlour
***
these lashes that
adorned my features
are even too tired to
blink. my body
lamented at me for
the ache it was in.
hours and hours in
this position still
wasn't enough to
forget the growing
disappointment and
chagrin that was all
too familiar to me.
they are my frequent
visitors after all. the
companions i can
share these horrid
photographs i have
as souvenirs of my
memories of the
bygones.
***
YOU ARE READING
Our Vintage Dance on the Phonograph
Poetry"you and - me, we traversed at the eve of the colossal pages of our bedroom balcony." - excerpt there is no other dancing partner i would dance with other than you, my sun. you bring me to places that are wiped out of history - to the gardens of rui...
