the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Day 23: Sad City Bouquet

To sleep through the morning
And wake up again.
Gray becomes a softer black
Maybe I loved this city all along,
So I gave my thanks in a porcelain bowl
For what I took and what was dead on arrival.
She left all the sweetness preserved in her
As I finished my breakfast at the counter
Like a well established diner,
A hole in the wall by a hole in the ground.

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