squint past sun and into smile - humid air humid face
eyes clutching each other - fingers interlaced
quiet tensions - pushing and pulling
shattering into laughter - smiles slowly growing
I clutch it. I clutch it tight. Beneath my eyes my lids squeeze it. I dare not let it out of sight.
I have forgotten how often - I've held that memory between my eyes
used it to let my frown soften - escaping into warm skies
it floats for a moment - then sinks to the back of my throat
as I struggle to hold it - I gasp a guttural note
"Please" - I plead - "Please don't go"
but it is waterlogged - it cannot float
YOU ARE READING
It Could Have Been Gentle - poetry
PoezjaPoems about the bits of life that feel unnecessarily sharp. ~ Nails in palms and rock in throat and eyes latched in the ground, I open up in hopes of speech and find a choke of sound, Frantic thought of desperation fly beneath my hair, I don'...
