Friend,
it is imperative
that I
chose this
over
regretting
a confession;
either way,
I know
I still
have you
you and your
sun-lit face
embedded in
memory:
it is already
enough
consolation—
a compensation
for my long-cooped
love
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
