Morning Mirage

Even though she could be a bitch,
inward inclined and, at times,
lost in her mind
when he awoke to find
the long dark hair and
warm skin of last night’s mistake
sleeping beside him
for a surreal nanosecond
he thought he was back in her room
and, energized, ran burning fingers
down an alabaster spine.

But when the girl turned around
it wasn’t her
and he smiled a glass facade,
the moment shattering
into microscopic cracks
visible only in a sigh of synapses
trickling through his neurons.

ART [Monocle] Innominate_Morning Mirage
Illustrated by Minji Reem

 

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