The Hiatus

Confused.
Depressed.
Sleeping and waking
Each day,
Each passing day;
With this same scent under my nose.
With this familiar taste of saliva.
Confused.
Depressed…

But then you came.
And left.
And came again.
And left again.
And came, and left, and came, and left!
Then you came once more…
And never left.
But this time,
Floating.
Like an orchid floating.
Through this endless lake of sorrow.
Floating.
Never leaving.

Now, I know.
This speckle of perfume stain under my nose.
It was you all along.

Now, I know.
This bitter taste of saliva.
It was you all along.

Now, I know.
Even more depressed.

~ by daerd on September 30, 2007.