There are roads which
would still remind me of
an us at the end
and I chose to take one
road after another
but I would find
neither you nor I
instead I always get back
to where I started
and that was all
I ever accomplished
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?
