The morning smells like rain…again.

There are some things that stay in question,
mostly bitter-sweet sentiments
masked as joy and happiness;
it is funny how the straight and narrow
road is really a circle,
the perceptions of progress are illusions
because the accompanying footprints are different.

Here I am taking steps back only to reach
the same plateau because hope kissed me
sensually on the lips;
different is not always better
just as love is not eternal


The moisture on the window;
the weekend huddled beneath the blankets,
the only thing separating what is real
and what is perceived.

The constant tapping against
the glass is a beautiful symphony within the psychology.

I followed my heart towards the pit,
staring into the opening and catching the glitter
from a fading light.

Sunlight breaks through these gray clouds…
The less we speak, the more we learn;
there is an unsettled situation
within the correlation.

Something is amiss,
I cannot put a finger on this
point of quiet contention.

To stay in this abandoned shelter,
this place of insanity,
is the only hope of weathering
these frigid temperatures.

My lips are numb and my heart is cold;
I can see the sun and that’s all that matters.

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