Zywa
Is it
It is this ordinary Tuesday
that has slid by today
over familiar activities, normal
routine
it is the talk about the weather
before I quickly get on again
it is the way it goes, life
Here I am, without a sash
realizing in homeliness
how pale my skin is
under the cotton black
that has no depth and
no gold-stitched thoughts
I'm just sitting, in the evening
and nothing has happened today
Did I live? Do I miss something?
Or is it this, this silence
before I go to sleep?
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