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sgholterPoems
With eyes narrow from fatigue And worries, I gaze at the Traces of time on my bedroom Ceiling. Cracks and flaking paint. Do nightmares and dreams Leave their imprints In wood, like silent poltergeists Remembered; collected; Guarded; stored? Invisible scars on dead surfaces. So unlike those on me That she finds with drowzy Fingertips in the dark, When I visit and cannot Sleep from the alien music Of the Oslo City night. It Lacks the sound of wind In trees playing with leaves That usually make up my Bedtime soundtrack. I awoke from dreaming she'd Left me; driving away with Some ex and not looking back. I ran until my Legs buckled. Ran after her. I sure hope her poor walls Don't remember.
0
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
Bedtime Soundtrack
With eyes narrow from fatigue And worries, I gaze at the Traces of time on my bedroom Ceiling. Cracks and flaking paint. Do nightmares and dreams Leave their imprints In wood, like silent poltergeists Remembered; collected; Guarded; stored? Invisible scars on dead surfaces. So unlike those on me That she finds with drowzy Fingertips in the dark, When I visit and cannot Sleep from the alien music Of the Oslo City night. It Lacks the sound of wind In trees playing with leaves That usually make up my Bedtime soundtrack. I awoke from dreaming she'd Left me; driving away with Some ex and not looking back. I ran until my Legs buckled. Ran after her. I sure hope her poor walls Don't remember.
sgholter
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sgholter
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
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