weird days.

I just laid around in my bed, looking at the ceiling, and i smiled because it was a nice kind of quiet.

Sense of absence

If I dare
look up and speak
it is because of the shadow
so gently bound
to my name
far away
in the rain
in my memory
by a face
that burning in my poem
beautifully disperses
the scent
of the dear face gone

A. Pizarnik