one hundred eleven words about one night

a look, a touch

i roll the dice

i test my luck

a forest grows back with patience

not with rage

a good feeling is festering

so i turn the page

keen to keep reading

this time- how is this ending?

frank sinatra is blaring in the street

in this city, reminders are everywhere

that used to torture me

you walked past me to test my sight

but i can finally see you there’s no more deceit

the look of love sprawls across my face

and i try to hide behind my hair

but it won’t work, you see me

unless of course we’re walking without daylight

because then of course, we are blind

-g.m.t.