Blink.

And 1 noon, you stood in my bookstore,

In the corner on the second floor

The second-left loose plank creaked,

As you smiled with ocean eyes and rosy cheeks,

Coloured from cold winter air and

Framed by your messy golden hair.

The church clock stroke 1 – a lash into my eyes,

Like reflections on closed window skies,

Outside hissed blue frozen winds

And with them you and all my sins.

 

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