In a dark room where the only things
I hear are the screeches of crickets and the banging of my own heart.

July is still a mystery
and August came like a mirage.
The levanter kind.

I have found nothing in particular since this year began. perhaps I have not loved the way I should, or I have loved so much to be loved.

I am alone in my lone world
fair enough, there are no sticks and stones to break my bones., nor chains and whips to torture me.


©PerryDe'poet