Every so often you stumble upon a post that leaves you staring at your screen wide-mouthed for a while. This is one of them.
I could go on and explain why I love this so much, but I am still drinking in the brilliance of “she who had wind-chimes and wrinkles in her vowels”.
Tremulous ghosts must stand in patent shoes around me
for I feel their hands on my shoulders tugging at my seams
I who do not cry
weep openly with sorrow
imagining is often harder than
I think of when he will not stand discontented
staring out at flocking birds
I think of the time I found a starling chick
lying cold on the ground
wondering at the bitter sky
why didn’t you give them a chance?
why did you let me stay instead?
the child who knew the flavor of strawberry milkshakes
was an artifice
lies from adults, how many more?
behind closed doors and screens
I met a poet an old lady who
wrote like she was on fire
when she didn’t write for a time
I knew she had died
again I railed
why take her? why not me?
I stand disillusioned and empty
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