seven scenes

I spent an evening
drinking gin and thinking thoughts.
New words came to me.

Sleep will beckon me,
though my pen still has stories,
I write in my sleep

A bowling pin sound –
the moment you hit my jaw
you apologized.

Gentleman caller …
so lovely in every way.
Until he ghosted.

Pencil holds my hair.
My hair falls to my shoulders
and I write my tale.

We were, all the things.
The world could not define us.
Then, fear seeded doubt.

Soon, our love became
more collateral damage
for our memory.

One thought on “seven scenes

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s