and as the night falls

you sleep in some other dark solitude. or your eyes drink the vibrant lights of the city. and i feel tired. like a window suffering from rain. or as if i was breathing silk. smooth, almost unrecognizable suffocation.
one day, i will leave the building and i will never look back. hopefully. and other day, perhaps, i will cease to be a consolation junkie.
the morning seems so desperate as any other eternity. mix the coffee with milk and ignore your reeling eyes. there is an invisible piano in the corner of the room. she plays dead melodies. unrecognized, insignificant. a dying man's breath.

::: forever :::