—so many things must have been said about sunset evenings as background framings.
so much—enough to fill the 12,000 electronic cemeteries where we bury our feelings.
But tonight is different:
because I’m walking away,
and not with death pervading my senses
but to my own personal port of familiar sadness—
My sadness is not blue,
it’s gold nail polish with red lipstick,
black coffee and LED screens
—my own silent island of disenchanted daydreams.