Vignette

there is a bored sleeping pill by the lamp stand.
he can’t stand the silence of an empty room

there is a forgetful knife
by the olive wooden cutting board
she can’t recall what she’d cut off an hour ago

there is a mug cup with a silver teaspoon inside
is she waiting to be filled with warmth again?
or is she sighing at the memory of warmth?

there is a blank inked pen on a bare desk
faithfully waiting to be of use,
to spill his guts for the glory
that will be remembered in the history.

11.9.2021