Balcony XXII

poetry by D.e.e.L

lungs empty out the thick breath
into the night’s ash colored air
and then a sip
brewed hours ago
the last of it
tastes bitter
and then the light shoots on


and standing there is a villian
a memory from long ago
draped in sheets
the brew must have been tainted
she slides open the glass door
rests her hand
and eyes close
she isn’t really there

eyes open

the light flickers for a moment
before darkness
and the ash colored night returns


another sip


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