I dream in sepia stains. Like watching an old World War II era film-short. A blonde woman in sandals and a sundress. Bobbed hair a bangs a vision of sunlight. I make forceful, violent, mildly amused eye contact. She fights to not reciprocate. The skies go grey as I shout her name. A hug and a crumpled note pave hours of hand-written apologies. The machine-gun clicking of a spinning movie-reel doesn't stop when I wake up. She was a good woman, I had no right.
12:21 p.m. - 2017-05-22
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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