February 14, 2024.
Tracing the rim of his glass, absentmindedly
When he said, "I love the smells in here,"
"The musk, the drink, and even the leather
from the stools and couches - I'd bottle it all up -
to make a perfume, spray it on a love letter to this city"
I could only stare at him with eyes weighed down by whiskey
"I miss the mountains, the unkempt grass and clean air", I said
"I miss when things were still, when the pendulum swung slow -
But now my feet stick to these floors,
the filth keeps me grounded
and I barely remember yesterday, let alone then"
Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 193 times
Written on 2024-02-14 at 07:06
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the filth keeps me grounded
He was watching the doe-eyed women danceTracing the rim of his glass, absentmindedly
When he said, "I love the smells in here,"
"The musk, the drink, and even the leather
from the stools and couches - I'd bottle it all up -
to make a perfume, spray it on a love letter to this city"
I could only stare at him with eyes weighed down by whiskey
"I miss the mountains, the unkempt grass and clean air", I said
"I miss when things were still, when the pendulum swung slow -
But now my feet stick to these floors,
the filth keeps me grounded
and I barely remember yesterday, let alone then"
Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 193 times
Written on 2024-02-14 at 07:06
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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