Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
annh Apr 29
Gilt-edged meanderings
decant
the sediment of diurnal isolation
as autumn falls.

'Today I am one, tomorrow I shall splinter again. And thus everything in the world decants and modulates.'
- Vladimir Nabokov, The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov
Olga Valerevna Apr 2014
The secrets in your pockets
have fallen on the ground
I gathered up enough to
recover every sound
I'm not afraid to keep them
and move while holding on
Whatever you are saying
I'm hearing as a song
I've learned to know the music
with every sense I have
Return to you the silence
the rest you needed back

— The End —