My heart, I thought wrongly
could contain more than
the brisk wind, sweeping
the drain—past me,
the vortex of water.
I thought myself
wrongly
capable of holding onto the wreckage
more firmly than this.
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Short StoryCW: sex, violence, drugs, suicidal ideation, depression. © 2020 by Yano Ism
the wreckage
My heart, I thought wrongly
could contain more than
the brisk wind, sweeping
the drain—past me,
the vortex of water.
I thought myself
wrongly
capable of holding onto the wreckage
more firmly than this.