When space is silence…

Words, sounds, and space…


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The fractures of a fallen bridge

 
Sharp mind-aches control his day      
The sway of a woman is to blame      

Her memory hugs his hand      
         infiltrates his amnesia      

    Dry skin absorbs that memory
(like a sponge in the touch of water)
   until it reaches his broken limb

Those eyes sink in the absence
of an exhilaration twice stolen

Despair reaches his bones
It fractures her spirit
       It opens his eyes

She is on the same rocking chair
      misinterpreting the mess


_____Adriana Citlali
XX-IV-MMXIV

 

The Sunday Whirl … Wordle 157 ~ a baker’s dozen

The Sunday Whirl … Wordle 157 ~ a baker’s dozen