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Noire
Poems
Mar 30
Sub-imaginary
Oh you, dearest you.
Looking forward to seeing the coming of another day.
Oh me, dearest me.
Looking forward to the coming of what may.
Sitting here, chatting here, laughing here, crying here.
"Where is here in the world outside?"
We both laugh. There is no answer.
The clock is ticking, but only in one direction.
The sun is beaming, but only the light.
The eternal present, the forever now.
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Noire
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darkifytun
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Elo
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Mary Huxley
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