Nocturnal Decline.

How the lids of each eye,

had been pressed and dried,

to each cheek overnight,

as I slumbered and cried;

how the corners of the smile,

that no one’s seen for a while,

turned down by the light,

with classic taciturn style;

how the sweeping of time,

collected dust into a pile,

to sift through and find,

grains of truth that were mine;

how the passage defines,

the subtle crossing of lines,

the journal of my nocturnal decline,

slumber is no friend of mine.

 

 

6 thoughts on “Nocturnal Decline.

  1. kosmogonic says:

    More magnificence. This is structured so masterfully. It lulls you with its ostensible simplicity before hauling you right down deep into that exquisite, barely perceptible waking/dream state – that gnawing, almost delirious sense of ‘otherness’ in all yearning, disquieted souls.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The pain that disturbs our sleep is among the worst.

    Liked by 1 person

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