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S K Anderson Mar 2021
now I am unafraid

I have always been the last to leave
I’m counting down the days

green water rises
pulling me beneath

for a moment, I can see the stars
for a moment, I can breath

now I close my eyes
and see the world and sky collide

here, I find myself falling again
into sorrows, into depths
undiscovered
I wrote this nearing the end of quarantine. The third in a series of three.

All rights are reserved by the writer, S. K. Anderson.
S K Anderson Mar 2021
for fear of feeling full

I’m wondering and wandering
my building’s full of ghosts

I convince myself I like it here
I try I sigh I do

the emptiness still falls
from the walls of my room

I am angry
I am restless
I am lonely
I am “full”
I wrote this in the middle of quarantine. The second in a series of three.

All rights are reserved by the writer, S. K. Anderson.
S K Anderson Mar 2021
and in the dark
hoping that my emptiness
will both set me and tear me apart.

it is not sweet, but it is clean.
a harsh cleanliness only found in extremes.

and I wallow there, like a bird on a stone
watching his brother be cast down

I am afraid, I say.
afraid still
that in all this time I have yet to feel

may god bless you,
and god curse you

though I know he never will
I wrote this at the beginning of quarantine. The first in a series of three.

All rights are reserved by the writer, S. K. Anderson.

— The End —