Dawn

You can smell it –
cold cigarette butts on the dirty bus stop floor.
You can taste it –
one drink too many, served on a liquor-soaked bar.
You can hear it –
hollow words of forgiveness, whispered in the night.
You can see it –
tomorrow’s orange sun, burning the oblivious horizon.
You can feel it –
cool air on your skin, and hazy emptiness in your heart.

And you know it –
you have to kill your bittersweet yesterdays and glorified yesteryears
if you want to live for another day.

 

(Munich, June 2018)

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