it's the last droplet of coffee in the mug.
the news in the papers is nothing new, retelling the way the world has been.
it was the same sun that shone yesterday that heats up every window now.
silently i pretend to ignore the change in the air.
with the pretensions spelt out, nothing has changed.
the promise of forever waves its flag in the wind that blows.
a song scribbled on scrap bits of paper is the sweetest.
there is no single word for the end of everything.
Happy Birthday, Charles Dickens!
1 week ago