Saturday, October 29, 2011

::Cold Marble Floor::






The cold marble floor,
is incredibly stubborn honey,
clutched to
-distant memories-
And the kitchen ,
drenched in aroma of
- cinnamon rolls.-

Believe me darling,
the balcony is haunted,
twilights cruelly cast 
shadows of silence,
on your tea stained sweatshirt.

Staring into the ,
-monochrome void-
our lonely backyard longs for
dreams hidden on,
the dark side of,
eclipsed moon.

With a crumbled photograph,
Clasped against my bosom,
I sleep to a starless night
- on the-
cold marble floor. 


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5 comments:

  1. Cinnamon rolls and sadness! This is an interesting concept!

    ReplyDelete
  2. this is your best poem yet dear, I loved every word, and as always you pic the apt graphic, be proud, this was unique xx

    ReplyDelete

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