Apr 2017
I must say, I must speak*
I must admit
just quietly, ever so slightly
into the cold, grey air
and the twisting of trees
to the brisk, harsh wind
and the sea of puddles
carrying the scent of ocean
I must admit,
I feel a hole in my chest
where there, beneath
the warmth and strength
and throughout the years
I buried a bag of bones
where the future cannot
*touch me
I must admit
just quietly, ever so slightly
into the cold, grey air
and the twisting of trees
to the brisk, harsh wind
and the sea of puddles
carrying the scent of ocean
I must admit,
I feel a hole in my chest
where there, beneath
the warmth and strength
and throughout the years
I buried a bag of bones
where the future cannot
*touch me
