noir

[ a picture and a poem - day twenty one ]

isn't love 
a bare mattress
in the center of an empty
one bedroom apartment
in the heart of paris where 
two strikingly passionate people 
lay au naturel,
listening as their laughs 
and their breaths
stretch to the ceiling
and out of a crack in the window,
whistling with the wind 
in the ears of the 
loveless below?

isn't loneliness
when this is all 
just a dream?