he sits there
tear-streaked cheeks
bleary eyed
staring at the place
where the white of the bedsheet
meets the white of the walls
voices have kept him awake
a strange cacophony
lulling him to sleep
only to snatch him from
the edge of the land of dreams
long has he sat and moped
blurring the lines between
words that were actually uttered
and ones he conjured up himself
his is a state of eerie nightmares
that stay for the day
she was here yesterday
and she's gone now
a strand of hair
on a tear-soaked pillow
is all that remains
he should remember
all the fights they had
and yet he remembers
the smile she smiled
and the tears she cried
it's morning now and
the light creeps up to him
touching his toes
he looks on, startled
straining to remember
the night that has been
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Photo by Basu. Those are my hands in the pic :). Had to burst about 20 of them before he got the perfect shot.
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