It always starts at a bright coffee shop.
It continues with a description.
She wore
A dress that did not match her soul,
Hair darker than description;
A sidelong glance.
We sat not far apart;
And then she left me.
But she’s not the point.
There really is no point.
Gone without trace,
Her sheer lack of presence left
So much more
Than she had ever given me.
But, oh!
The angle of her unoccupied

–Stephen Consciousness

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One Response to Chair

  1. gregbrown says:

    some really great lines here, a real sense of longing. . .

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