Illusion of the Cage

Rainy night

Through splintered, fraying edges, the nerves entwined, crisscrossed wire thatch, a crooked window standing akimbo, mist sprinkled on the sill.

A light wind sweeps the drops across the room. A forearm is grazed, my eyes fixated on the palms swaying to the rhythm of the shaded evening.

A gray indulgence. The sound of car tires splashing across damp potholes, children skipping stones across the slippery pavement. A gentle laugh, a pair of whispers turned secret with a pinky lock of forever.

Memories are made and lost on nights like this. The ocean churns long syllables, sea birds scurry along a sky of pink and black. On the other side of this cage an entire world takes pause before plodding forward once more.

An orchestra of door slams, rooftop percussion, a burning smell from the neighbor’s oven. A distant siren. Lampshades exhaust, another shadow dissolves into the onslaught of evening.

I turn the blinds down. The scent of you lingers less on the pillow, that too dissolving slowly by the night.

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