A Lingering Thought
I never noticed the painting above your bed.
Between hands and moans, it sits.
Watching.
Not quite anything
But yet almost something.
Outside the rain is falling.
We open the windows to let it in.
Hoping that it washes us anew.
In the silence there’s a vibration
that runs through our intertwined legs.
Wrapping around us softly, silently, secretly.
Tightening the threads of the sheets
that you pulled off the bed.
Other than the painting, the room is almost bare.
Devoid of color or warmth
A small mirror in the reflective way.
Showing me a vast open space between us.
I feel the loneliest when all interests in me,
washes off in the morning shower.
Removing a personality that only exists at 3am
And leaving behind the painting
that I just now noticed.
Anahita Kay
Writer, pessimist, and a hilarious afterthought
Anahita Kay 