Sunday it's the day she visits me.
by Sezano KarBoni
I try to think not of the teardropp that will roll down my cheek,
Exactly 106 minutes later,
As she leaves.
If I could talk,
(Here's the part where I dream of having a deep, velvety voice)
I would tell her a thousand times
'Please, don't go...',
But, I can’t.
Instead I watch the teardropp soak the cardboard,
As she closes the door,
106 minutes later.
With my Rorschach test.