Sunday, September 4, 2016


We poked our bare shoulders
Underneath the bedroom curtain
To a pink sky at six in the morning.
Sailors would've taken warning,
But in this landlocked city
Where the only water comes from the faucet,
Every dawn looks sad and pretty.

Three years later, I woke up
Tossing and turning
To the first morning without you,
Still mesmerized by the sad and distant sky.

No comments:

Post a Comment