Tuesday, October 3, 2017

DEATH P.M.

The sunset clouds
blue and orange and pink
I, enraptured by Sun's gaze
deeper than the stare of lovers at the beginning
of a relationship.

Four.
The windows is only place concrete,
something to fall back on.

This time yesteryear
the Sun's wide eye
slowly sunk in sleep
a pervasive black

The unloved sky do remind me
of all times
I still think of nothing but you
Good things
still happens
even
when I'm
no longer in love with you
It's magical

I can't stop spat
these archived words
mother tongue of a languid
sound
though I can never recall your ghost
a phonetic of presque vu

Clear is the tears
I no longer spill

Fear

The place I place pieces of you

Steer off this looming wild
I know you don't
love me
anymore

Merely a lonesome thought
invade

I know
I
don't feel the same
anymore.