My glass heart
is a case study of kintsugi
with cheap bourbon
filling the cracks. Numb fingers
reach towards number lips
as a drowsy mind’s eye sees
your laughing face,
smells floral shampoo,
tastes morning breath.
I’d have tripped over my tongue
saying, “I loved you,”
so I don’t.
The night’s old, I’m alone.
No one would have heard.
Bourbon is a sweet cure, after all. Loved this poem 🙂
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It really is. Thank you!
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That was so beautiful! 😊😍
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Thanks, Keiko!
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Remy this was lovely ❤ ❤ ❤
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Thank you, Prattle! c:
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Remmyyyy ❤ This was beautiful! I enjoy these bits of poetry you've written on here from time to time! 🙂
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Thank you.
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Why are you not taking part in NaHaiWriMo?
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Oh, wasn’t aware this was a thing.
I don’t think I could treat the haiku with the decorum and respect it deserves, though.
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Then write senryu…
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Hm. Senryu is also very rigid. Maybe I’ll give it a shot in the future.
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Remy, this was lovely. Do you write poetry often? That first stanza especially is so real and evocative, I’d be so happy to read more stuff like this from you. Sending special blogger-friend Valentine’s hugs 🤗
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Thank you, Elisabeth!
I used to when I was much younger. I’ve posted two on here before.
https://remyfoolblog.com/2017/11/18/morning-breath/
https://remyfoolblog.com/2017/12/22/to-ernest/
Alright, I’ll try to churn something out every week, then. No promises, though.
I’m thankful for and returning the special blogger-friend Valentine’s hugs!
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Happy singles awareness day Remy! ❤
At least we have our right hands!
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pls
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