Gone 2344 1482 K.V. Martins

Your words flew in –

like scattered shadows

held themselves at a         distance,


to shape from sorrow

tomorrow’s understanding.

They exploded on my lips,
stung my hands, ate the fragile skin

of my wounds.

I watched them all night –
rearranged, framed

tried to claim them as my own.

I snatched them

but they moved so fast
I could not catch them.

Header photograph © Sue Michael.

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