The fading rays 
     of the afternoon sun;
The slovenly state 
     of my tiny room;
The clamor from 
     the neighbor's house;
The stack of books 
      falling on top of each other–
All got lost in my heavy sigh.
Then there was the–
         absence of your measured silences. 
All this to say–I miss you.
When Anne Carson said–
All lovers believe they are inventing love,
     she was perhaps right.
We're lovers, inventing love

Nawshin Flora is currently daydreaming about catching up to her never ending TBR list. Remind her to get enough sleep at nawshinflora@gmail.com.