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I climb the stairs

Someone played the tables and I gambled sense,
For this hateful, pale wisp of a man.

On tumbling, the die cast no love for myself,
Left dumb in the thin veils of morning.

So I climb the stairs,
In metronomic trance
Fumbling,
For
My key.

And inside, you wait
On pressed cotton sheets

For me.


Author notes

Pic prompt: Masquerade
Pink Absinthe

A contest entry

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Comments


  • Pink Absinthe
    February 11

    Edit | Reply
    I love the depth to this, and at first I thought the 'hateful, pale whisp of a man' was a direct relation to the model in the picture but I see that it shifts to someplace else in a bedroom, nice write!!!