The mornings spent running?
I hardly remember them
The afternoons, asphyxiated?
No
What I see are the absence of clouds
Between the clouds
When all earth is shattered
And the moments of happiness
Consumed
It is momentous
It is stupendous
It is callous, and hardened and reproachable
I hate thee, and thy silver charms
Mrs. So I told you so
Mrs. Goodbye forever
I hate you
And I hate this evening
Whither, whither to whom?
Goodbye