It's dark.
Under the train tracks, there is
a rush of sound and
our upturned faces
get illuminated for those few seconds.
Open windows, so we get little glimpses of
other people's lives.
I feel terribly alone sometimes.
You can't stop talking,
sometimes I just want to tell you
to shut the fuck up, please.
I miss being tucked in,
into blankets,
into the corner where your neck
meets your shoulder,
into the dark.
*
Afternoon at the table outside
My Humble House at the Esplanade
with our take-home pack of
Hokkaido Ice Cream
in Cookies & Cream and Banana Chocolate.
No comments:
Post a Comment