Wind in a bottle

Lately, I have been craving company.
But when it is near, I question it, and walk away.
Or simply tire it.
Maybe it’s not near at all.
I am short sighted.
I think I have been seeking sex in little violet alleys.
But then, mostly, I just fall asleep
and wake up wanting to be alone
and blue.
I can only see colour on Sundays.
There’s no unhappiness,
not much.
It’s a luxury for good times.
But the jar is empty.
Winds in a bottle don’t blow.

 

 

-Shakya

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