
Go On
Sep 1, 2018 · 1 min read
Streets are empty and smell of mundane and familiar
like that pub and those pints you drank tonight.
Last coach left the station with timely withdrawal
(just so you know)
Some lights resist to go out…
As you walk alone in sleepless dreams
you wonder where have all the dead moments gone
and where do they bury them… does anyone know?
That imaginary Victorian portrait
that faded into grey,
it never left the drawers of your mind
but you forgot where it is kept.
All the conversations you held in your head,
the words never said.
You hear the breeze humming:
Go on, leave all behind
you only belong to yourself.

