an intoxicating
ounce of sadness and nostalgia
in the translucent
raindrops,
a splitting silence at the bottom
of a coffee mug,
A drunk monologue sits on my throat
watching the roof of my mouth
weep
like a widow.
At a bus stop
I sit alone
like a raindrop waiting to fall
from the sky,
Unnoticed
like a watermark
on the bathroom wall.
Sad movies
are trigger warnings,
running
a high-grade fever on my tongue,
swollen wounds
bleed again
There's not much left
of this
skin and bones,
just a tragic playlist
and a few packets
of coffee-stained memories.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐น๐ถ๐
05.29.21
ยฉamsterdam
A