Wednesday, February 11, 2015

From the Notebook of J Michel

The same room

You and I
we are standing in the same house.
There are many rooms and somehow
we both chose the same.
You –who smell of comfort and apples –
are on one end.
And I –my face smeared with ash and honey –
am on the other, singing the bittersweet strains of a new day.
I am looking at the window,
Considering all the glorious possibilities of twilight,
But you –
You are staring at the walls,
Considering how they make this room
more of a prison than a sanctuary.

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