Real? Thus is the morning past.
Is this what she meant by moving on?
The sky hangs, dull in a grey fog,
Nowhere bathed in hidden violet
Electricity. Reflective early light lays
Out with dimness, purposeless as passing
Noises from the street. Loveless day
Has no red thorns, it's coffee lacks
A bite. A world less alive in every thing.
How different is the sand when your in love?
How different is the sand to lovers?
The sea is cold today, just cold. The waves
Erase, leaving a blank slate, a malformed
Table that could be a thousand memories.
Somewhere she looks upon the same see,
Unencumbered by memories
Of insignificant acquaintances, long
Since past the itch of a passing flea.
I wish I could see the same sea,
The one without me.
