Black Magic & Magnolia Suns

Incense, sandalwood, and a half lit cigarette rest by the window in the bedroom of my new apartment. Soft rain drops in small intervals. The air is sultry. It’s heat, soil, and salt. It’s the promise of a new summer. Late nights turn into magnum colored dawns. Unfamiliar faces slowly smile. I pour my sixth cup of gin. Pangs of love-gone-by still prick somewhere deep inside from time to time, but followed without regret. I’ve let go, but I’m not quiet sure I’m ready to move on, just yet. The hot summer is wide open. I only have to walk out the door.