Daylight yields its warmth to a cumbersome brisk September stillness, howling couples tangled in bedsheets. What's left rests upon a hijacked dream of convenience. Heat escapes a lid of pumpkin spices swirled in a stirred latte with a splash of Kahlua for the road. Leaves that of golden-brown crunched beneath staggered steps, leading to her front porch. Stopped cold-at-dawn, staring through a window as priceless middle-aged youth remained.
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The Lonely Position of Neutral
PoetryBen's throat cancer has returned. Living a lonely life, he found a woman he loves but finds out she's been unfaithful. Ben starts to think the lonely position of neutral isn't that bad. He writes poems and dialogue narratives. Will Ben survive cance...
