“His train has left the station.”

A message from Sandra made numb, drenched lungs burst into remorseful sagas
Of melancholia dipped in sacred blood.
I writhe in chained colours, swallowing novella, verses he left me to.

The urban Sun set beneath my silhouette, into the deep blue water; I drown in it
With half of a cigarette between my lips and your name carved at the decaying corners. Droplets tip-toe into pale skin pores. My moments of shame recollect for one last time.

Some witnessed my skeleton hanging-
Of a wife soused in cocktails
And your gem resting-
A tale of unspoken thousand words echoing in my grave. Resonantly.

โ€ขโ€ข Cereus

ยฉ Cereus Florus. 2018.


10 thoughts on “Leftovers

  1. Cereus! My God! I can really see a great writer popular ahead!!!!! ๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒผ๐ŸŒผ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜
    I love this a lot! ๐ŸŒธ๐ŸŒธ๐ŸŒธ

    Liked by 2 people

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