unconscious

break before bending
devoured by the hunt
this city sleeps, we just miss it
caught inside the tolerable life
we become reflections staring back at ourselves
in store windows – in puddles
the night knows this story
throwing the lady out with the tap water
all set in plaid, you’re good enough
there’s a part of me that only reacts
the night knows this story
not like it makes a difference
(this is me today, but it won’t be me tomorrow)

M.

Poetry

Mandy Joy Poole View All →

Writer and photographer from remote Labrador, Canada. Just another cold Labradorian chillin' in the Big Land. Can most likely be found walking my dog Grace or behind an iMac screen slowly taking over the interwebs.

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