When becoming more means being less
Johanna M. Geiger
constant blast of clammy air
purply fingers and the dull throb from yesterday’s pain.
I am needing less and less of you, still
everywhere I go I see little trinkets once left behind.
Remembered faintly, a wisp of anxiety riddled peace
Go, go, gone now – the sky of wonder
blank of tension
it’s this chill that has taken up residence in my bones.
