Monday, March 22, 2021

Phantom pains

it's a turning under the navel
a slight jitter within the sphinx moth cocoon
their cold hands grasp onto your shoulders
always trying to hold what they can't
trying to feel something the wind
has swept away 
those letters of all those words
scattered on a breeze and cast into the blanket of night
but they still linger by sides
chilly breaths turning up hairs on necks
slight movements of their favorite things
sudden glances in reflections
moments caught over the shoulder
in the corners of eyes
where the tears collect and fall
for all the spring showers they danced in
escaping under towels and arms
where secrets whispered into eager ears
the same ears now perked to shutter
at the very same whispers
for all flowers fade
all petals fall
no blossom ever blooms again



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