sad pen, old papers
lonely prose of the sunset
unhappy poet

autumn air,
purple pink sky
I'm sitting on
a maroon
wooden bench
sipping my
homemade
matcha espresso
I'm staring
at the
saffron's bookshop
I saw you
embracing him
you gave him
three pink tulips
you gave him
a maple wooden watch
you gave him
a pulchritudinous smile
my ephemeral existence
in your life
was like an apricity
and my limerence
for you
was like
an old forgotten
wooden cello
trying to tell...