Apoplexy

by

nga Gracia

In a room without windows,
In that  nameless city,
Behind a dead garden
Reliquary of fleshly sentiments
She sat. Her myopic eyes
Tracing,
Imaginary panes
Tinted  glasses.

Perceiving,
The febrile odor of death.
Her tiny,fragile fingers
Reaching
Penetrating
Shades of Grey.

There,
Between the mortar and the heartburn
Tart silence sewed her memories
In empty tea cups.
Leaving her fleecy lips
Drooling
Dying…

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One Response to “Apoplexy”

  1. Gracia Says:

    Shume faleminderit per postimin 🙂

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