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| I'm Just a Brick Wall Now |
Those Things I Can’t Tell Myself
I confess. I sometimes visit
the brick entryway
of our consummation
where hardness became
soft, where grief wrapped
her bony fingers around
your guarantees, where I found
myself, but lost you,
one letter at a time.
of our consummation
where hardness became
soft, where grief wrapped
her bony fingers around
your guarantees, where I found
myself, but lost you,
one letter at a time.
*****
Exceptional! Particularly, the way this poem evolves from the first line to the last...
ReplyDeleteThat is so nice. Thank you, Nurit!
DeleteThis just tears at my heart. Very well done, Mosk
ReplyDelete(Oops. Sorry, I meant to put that comment here!)
DeleteThank you so much, Mosk.
ReplyDelete