The appreciation of what got lost in time

One day you get up in the morning,
and the slippers that used to be next to yours
are no longer there.
The coat hanging from the rack, or the sweaters,
the shirts, the pants, all of them
no longer on the floor.

One day it’s time for dinner and the table is set for one.
One day the legs on top of said table are no longer on top;
their annoyance now a thing of the past
just like everything else.

One day you wake up in the morning,
and suddenly the first daggers of sunlight
ripping through the curtains
announce to you:

How truly beautiful were the faces you once
held between your hands
now that they all have
disappeared.

Giovanni Mangiante, born on March 17th, 1996, is a bilingual writer from Lima, Peru. He has work published in The Anti-Languorous Project, Dream Noir, Punk Noir Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review, and has upcoming poems in Down in the Dirt and Panoply. In writing he found a way to cope with borderline personality disorder.

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