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Sarah Spang Jan 2021
Roaming down my spine are shivers
Fingers, fear and dread
And films reels on a loop that trickle
Whispers through my head

Rising in their wake the goosebumps
Feather out and feel-
If only for an instant what's
Remembered then- is real
Sarah Spang Jan 2021
It's easier to leave to turn and go
To mark my footsteps heel to toe
Grasp the door and flee the frame
And keep my mouth shut around your name
Sarah Spang Jan 2021
Seven times we've danced around
That darkest mark of days,
Drifting past the gravity
From whence his path did stray.

Seven journeys round a sun
That no more knows the shade
Of eyes that witnessed 22
And barely more a day.

Seven trips and many moons
Spent staring at the sky,
Wishing I could raise my wrist
And grasp the reasons why

Seven's worth of dreams in which
The 'why' evades me still
And why I when I caress the skin
I feel naught but the chill.

Seven come and seven gone
And seven on my skin
And yet untouched by seven are
The memories of him.
Sarah Spang Jan 2021
Down where the water sprawl to touch,
The banks of where the wraiths of us
Cling beneath the half-mast moon
My memories must not exhume-

The path of fingers, hair and skin
Where one touch ends and one begins.
Or how the words, too high a cost
Curled in the wind- forever lost.
Sarah Spang Jan 2021
I live my life in metaphors,
In memories- and muse
Of different ways I can preserve
The echoes left of you.
Sarah Spang Jan 2021
The grass is greenest where it's watered,
Yet I know where it rains is broader
And here above-tipped gray- the weight
Informs me that my reach is great.
Sarah Spang Dec 2020
I saw goodbye in the green
And shuttered in the space between
The paces that would close the gap-
Where I would take my silence back.

Yet parted of lips bore nothing more
Then wisps of breath, just as before
And turning without tracing back
My march on forward stays the track.

With nothing more to fill the air
My feet sought miles far from there
And yet the shell marched forward when
My heart did circle back again.

And then the gap grew to contain
Seasons past, The wind and rain
Weeks to months, a year's refrain
Would never see us touch again.
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