A little fraying thought

He was standing there, by the window.

Soaking his own tears from the glass in his hand; red wine,

Purple neon signs, incessant rain.


They had golas one evening, standing by the crowd, the noise –

Two lovebirds, drinking water, gobbling ice, red, blue, green.

“Come get wet with me”, she had screamed.

He hated the rain. She loved it.

As the city bled lights red, green and blue,

He was drowning in bokeh, by the window.

Drowning in her.



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