Yard Sale of Thoughts

Full moon snores,

white bra on the bathroom floor,

ceiling tiles and tax prep. files,

columns on white parchment,

deductions in the weekend’s joy.

Blind love,

one headlight that hovers,

the kind I used to send in fancy letters,

now a luxury I can’t afford.

Come to my bedroom window,

if you can reach it, as

I’ve already locked the door.

© 2024 | K.Hartless

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