Sillage

A little upset can go a long way

Star-lights and night skies

Begin sketching themselves

And fences are conjured up

Imprints can defy expiration

To remain or to dissolve;

The mind rambles for options

To undo the damage that an

Untouched fragrance leaves behind

For, a little upset can go a long way

 

*The word sillage has roots in the French language. It is the degree to which a perfume’s fragrance lingers in the air when worn.

 

 

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Their paralysed freedom

I’m appalled but unhurt
It is their loss after all
And not mine to dwell upon
They forgot who they were
Whilst I knew all along
My past intact, I move on
Safe from falling into
The pits of oblivion

A sip of ecstasy they crave for
As I revel in the marvels
Of the present
My laugh echoes in ample waves
While they search for a way out
With their heads turned
In a direction that is lost

Casual Sadness

Soaking whatever’s left
Of
The dying sun

Listening to the wind’s
Quiet, solemn tune
Humming along
Out of solidarity

My cup of tea
Is now cold
As I search for meaning
In a meaningless world

What is this, really?
Casual sadness, perhaps
In all its glory…