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
I can only see colour on Sundays.
There’s no unhappiness,
It’s a luxury for good times.
But the jar is empty.
Winds in a bottle don’t blow.