The Thirty first of December, 2019

Du matin
sky, quite reddish
alarm buzzes
forehead kisses
half lit cigarettes
walls of silhouettes.

sky, bright white ish
Espresso sips
cuts of her lips
bits of their notes
warm fuzzy coats.

sky, somewhat pink ish
silver in the city
whiff of whiskey
empty lanes
lipstick stains.

sky, midnight blue ish
bonfire lit
lights dimmed
kiss beneath stars
healing our scars.

Can you see?
Can you hear?
Can you touch?
Can you feel?
It’s the year end. Another year ends.

© 2019 _occultatum_