poetry//fiction
She spoke with words that moved like smoke
From the cigarette her boyfriend would light
She told me that late at night
Or early morning. I wasn’t quite sure
2AM was indecisive about where it belonged
A lot like her, a lot like me
She spoke words and played songs
Because not everything can be put into words
She lost herself to the music
I lost myself in the action of her losing herself
Oh darling, how lost you are
How lost the both of us have become.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry or Prose, I Suppose
PoetryThis is neither fact nor fiction. It is in the realm of my mind, the planes in which are not held accountable for reason or articulation. It is a wild landscape and I need to map it out in the way I know best-writing. So wether it is an unfiltered v...
