brazen brandy

in the penumbra of the eve,

silence creeps.

slithers around  gnarled trees clinging to

primordial roots,

glides down from a cajun sky

strewn with glowing specks of

kismet.

this solitude steals boldly into my

quarters,

saunters over to my soul

and pours itself in

as if it were an aged

and brazen brandy,

swirling about in a crystal tumbler.

confessions of the past

now echo inside me

as silence persists,

an obstinate guest

deep within my psyche.

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