62

it’s in this kind of mornings
a little foggy
the clock is a little too late
my throat was loud
and alcohol in smoky bars
I sit undone in the kitchen in an oversized shirt
checked
then it’s in this kind of mornings
that coffee is a yearning
a softly warm scent embracing my insides
bread is crunchy and plays music in my ears
in my mouth
unspoken words
wafting presences in my fears and in your stubbornness
and they press me down
down my body down the inner walls
grounded to the truth
that desiring isn’t allowed

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About mt

Danzare Viaggiare Studiare Leggere Raccontare Frutta e verdura Agendine e quadernetti Riciclo e tradizioni Biologico ed ecologico
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