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The table was set.
The morning was fine.
The world lay reflected
in two glasses of wine.

An empty plate
reflected sunshine,
The morning compressed
in two glasses of wine.

What did she see
in undulations of wine?
Were the shapes a portent?
Was there a design?

Were the glasses a mirror
or shadowy sign?
Perhaps they were more
than just glasses of wine.

She and a friend
sat down to dine.
Their reflections drank deeply
from two glasses of wine.
This was inspired by a gorgeous photo that I wish I could post on HP.
Here's the link on Instagram.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BGgWsniDIxR/?taken-by=candacesmithphoto
 Jun 2016 Aimen Azim
NvrMnd
I am not a woman
No, not a man either
No flesh so keep shush
Crossing borderlines
Of love and hate

Through letters
Perfectly distorted
By motion of emotions
Spilling ink through papers
I am born free to wander

My body is a story
Of pain and pleasure
Slipping through time
Yet keep sailing away
From oblivion*

-I am a poem.
Lately I have this strange feeling of not being a human anymore.
I feel like my biological composition is fleeing and what's left are pure emotions.
And it's actually good, I can be anywhere, be anyone, genderless but still has an identity..
-Equality and Freedom-
the pieces fall into place
&
sometimes
the place falls into pieces

— The End —