Sunday, July 09, 2006
Sitting down under the full moon
in the garden of him of whom I sorrow.
Smell of freshly cut grass and sound of burning cigarette in the silence of chilly may night. I sit alone. Alone as lonesome I am in my broken expectations. Who am I kidding. Enough of this facade of one sided emotions. Enough of the blooming love charade and self hurting. Enough of nights painted with lonesome sadness.
Enough of unseen stars.
Enough of unhugged crys.
Peach blue sky.
Horizon annoyingly clear and sharp. Morning chill and my breath interchanging with the smoke of my disgusting Camel light. Sound of burning foollowed by the sound of my dried lips peeling off the filter as I puff away down the lane of my morning junkie routine. Chills are becoming uncomfortable and I am trying to unwelcome the morning breeze from my hoodie and sleeves. Frosted grass leaves crushing below my feet as I wander off the concrete pavement. Coffee cup rolling around on the road, pushed by the passing cars in both directions. Street lights still radiating sick yellow light as if trying so hard to hold that ugly stale feeling of dying night.
I am cold.
Saturday is slowly being born as the lonesome road becomes less lonesome and birds start calling each other. I wish you shared morning with me. I wish you understood. I wish you were decent enough to see my morning.
To feel my chill.
I wish you were warm.
For I am cold.