The third of October

If you search the sordid darkness of my room

checking behind the pictures of my friends

you will find hidden beneath the the paint and plaster

the hope that I lie about.

 

Amongst my second hand furniture,

and camouflaged by the randomness of my mind

remain the wishes I feverishly make in the middle of the night.

Wishes I make to nobody, that nobody answers.

 

I recoil and I relent only to realize

I am vain as I hide from the truth.

The fact that everyone recognizes 

yet never brings up.

I am still in the throws of loving you.