Loss

wooden bowl still life

.
Alone on island
Your words are bridge to nowhere,
nd I’m sinking fast

 

Taste of salt water.
It lingers here on my lips;
reminds me of tears.

 

Pry my fingers loose.
These wretched keys can’t soothe me,
or balm my aching heart.

 

Rain down bitter tears.
Wash away expectation
and seed this moment.

 

See his chalk outline?
You’d never know there once was
a living soul here.

.

.

 

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