in silent slumber slowly awakens wrapped in a cotton cocoon; the sweet smells of sleep seducing the senses
forget the sour notes those bitter fruits the disjointed limbs the ***** that yawn in the trickle of yesterday
laid to waste burnt in the unforgiving ash; a misplaced cigarette and the wine rediscovered hiding in the cupboard which tasted of vinegar
savour the new day the awakening the red dawn
revel in the mystery girl face-palm-plant the lost chances the razor sharp wit lost in the sugar syrup of many a Mojito; the things I could've said, I should've said
fumble in the blur another Sunday morning; the day after the night before.