surrounded by space
in a soundtrackless cinéma vérité;
long stares out of the window,
cigarettes after sex;
finally, she whispers, 'do you love only me?'
the question remains unanswered
while seasons fade.
the walls start closing in,
echoing the decade of quietude;
the busy streets outside remain,
stiff gins after sex;
finally, she sighs, 'do you still love me?'
and while seasons fade,
the question remains.
I haven’t watched many movies for a long time, let alone something quiet and contemplative. Even I have succumbed to short attention span syndrome, though I still manage to sit through a three-hour game of football. I have a million movies on hand; I should watch more.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
1994ever 