Fleeting
The memories dissolve
like ice in warm whiskey;
the brush of her breath
whispering sweet lies;
a ghost in my ear.
She was brief, like midnight,
and when we kissed
I could taste Manhattan
at night; the darkness,
the crush and desire.
The sweep of the second-
hand across the clock face
without pause. A dream
unfinished; interrupted
by inevitable dawn.
SMG
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2 comments:
Makes me feel warm to read this,
eden
a sneaky imagery.
well penned.
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