Sunday

Ice-cold coffee dripping
Outside, rain pours on arid land
Tables — fake marble tables buzzing
We sit, gazing at each other’s lips

A rundown of names as the cream melts
Our cell phones, we use them as clocks
DVDs — fake DVDs in the bag
We’ll watch them later to sedate our eyes

I lost you last night in a dream
I’ve forgotten all but the twinge
Dreams — fake films in my head for free
But I can’t lose you in a dream or reality

Ashes pile up in the tray
Outside, rain pours without a plan
Sundays — fake respite from our pains
I’ll wait for you again ’til Sunday comes.

2 Comments

Filed under Life, Love, Poems

2 responses to “Sunday

  1. I love your line “fake respite from our pains”…very nice….you create a clear image with this poem…thanks!

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