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Phantom Lover - Poetry Series
Phantom Lover - Poetry Series And now the room is one o’clock cozy, sun-baked warm to a perfection found on Indian Summer days, oppressive with the Earthy smell of rotting leaves stamped down by heavy rains. My bed and full stomach contribute to the drowsiness. Close my eyes, convinced by my calm that it is over, that I am fine, and the world passes into amber dreams… And now it is five o’clock as I resurface hazy minded and drugged by new odors: baked turkey, dressing, yeast rolls, her scent. Her weight depresses mattress in front of me, drawing me closer. And now I’m aware of my breathing, slow, relaxed, in my ears it echoes… In this ghost world between asleep and awake, I reach for her to drape arm over her waist, bending at elbow to rest a hand on her heart. Ba-boom… Ba-boom… Open my eyes and it’s gone, the spectre of it, insubstantial. Alone on my bed, afternoon sunlight leaking in. Check out more at my group: The Fantasy Nook. |
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Well done..nice imagery..bright red background could be toned down some..a lil hard on the eyes..I like this piece though..I will be back to read some more..thanks for sharing your work here.
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