Post Holiday Blues

I am
a hopeless romantic
for the unattainable

Sun, slow, saline.

Cinnamon skin
taut by the searing
pleasure pain
that high noon feeling

I miss the trickle
of liquid salt
down the small
of my back

I remember…

That earned respite
of chilled ale
and plastic fan
on sandy cool tiles

Ah, to stroll slow
merely meander
happily lost
on a long island

So long ago.

So long ago,
yet this bitter sweet
sunburnt memory
has yet to peel

Fresh pinned hopes
on cheap flights
short holidays
long nights

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