moving on

space opens, bricks collapse on each other,

the plot lines that mighthavebeen implode, we are no more

as numbers delete backwards: how many times you watched

to see if I’d laugh,

and so on. The sentence runs out

before the book closes

memories dry, turning sepia

why don’t you say something? you float away into the void,

stubbornly silent, stone lips fused

I am not worth reaching back to

and this is the darkest hurt to me.

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One thought on “moving on

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