He was watching the doe-eyed women dance
Tracing the rim of his glass, absentmindedly
When he said, "I love the smells in here,"
"The musk, the drink, and even the leather
from the stools and couches - I'd bottle it all up -
to make a perfume, spray it on a love letter to this city"
I could only stare at him with eyes weighed down by whiskey
"I miss the mountains, the unkempt grass and clean air", I said
"I miss when things were still, when the pendulum swung slow -
But now my feet stick to these floors,
the filth keeps me grounded
and I barely remember yesterday, let alone then"
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Loose Teeth
الشعرA poetry collection about the art of letting go and changing under the stains of time. You lose little pieces of who you were in order to evolve. Pull those loose teeth, and make room for something better. Let's grow together.
