How you fall

And at some point you cease seeing in shapes and colours and start perceiving only smells and sounds.

Late hours of the night in fragile flickering lights on the windowsill. Small hours of the morning wrapped up in the grey mist.

And it’s as if you are blind, stumble in the dark…

But you love it. You still hold your head high.

Silly-silly, heart, you’ve lost this battle again…

October, 2016

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