view

I haven't looked through my glasses in months.
So the bleeding of purple and grey
and teal this night,
the white of the waves leaps out - and writes
love letters to me.

ah, barely dressed,
one thin blanket,
big wide windows
by the bed.

a cricket in the room chirps.

I am alone with
the mirrors
and the waves
and the lightning

knocking on the window
like a polite lover.