Artwork by IsyLLiS
I run my fingers
through a clutter of thoughts.
Taste potions of my pain
own it, and breathe a new-found freedom.
We spoke in languages
we did not understand.
Must I write of lost love, and departed lovers
their memories and lingering love
that has floated away
on a lonesome cloud?
Or turn in another direction,
where the Sun is beginning to rise
and the skies are full of faithful promises.
Love, warmth, peace and a happy new year to you all.