Acerbic Love

Leave a comment
Poetry
Apocalyptic fears
That come and go,
Marvelous weather
That gives me solace.

I feel slightly thirsty.
The housecleaner is gone
And the floors are wet,
Ready for my indoor skating.

Dying habits
And freckled skin,
The dog approaches
And wets my knee
With his muzzle.

Acerbic love.
I take a sip
Of my wine.
I call a truce,
She leaves an open door.

The wooden panel creaks,
I get flustered
And my cheeks redden
When I imagine myself
Writing this.

The Author

Woman. Floaty. Attached. Dettached. Sudden. Note-scribbler. Citizen of the world. Travelling to the moon and back.

Leave a Reply