i sat idle on a chair carved from memories that had lost their grain,
and upholstered with a thick heavy fabric woven from ideals.
a cup of love filled to the brim to the point of overflowing, was
set
before me on the table of time and i, blinded by frustration, drank
only from the bitter cup of loneliness along with my trusted friend
hope who by now had consumed so much optimism, she had forgotten about
me, and found herself on the brink of
a dreamless slumber, leaving me with no other company than emptiness,
who happens to be a bore.
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