Poetry

The Morning After

31 October 2012

Dazed and disoriented
Hers is the sway of a sleepwalker
With blush suffused cheeks and starry eyes
She gazes up at an unfixed point
and sighs

Her gait is languid
a groggy saunter underwater
“No thank you. I’m sorry, excuse me.”
The lights and language so intensely loud
weaving through the city crowd

her mind is vacant
she’s restless, reckless, thrumming
the messed up hair and make-up stains
forgotten, passed away
she lifts her face into the rain.


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