I do not dare think about this
Grief reaches for my throat
Threatens to close my windpipe
Corona that it should spill my glass half full
That sticky-sweet hibiscus crowds my eyes
How could I have avoided you?
I turned my back on that corner you lurked around
Refused to see you
Told myself
I have years
Months
Weeks
Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds
Time has spent itself
And now, you patient beast,
You are ready for me.
I have not missed you.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Journal Uploaded
PoetryThis is a digital copy of my physical poetry and prose journal. While it is meant simply to be a backup, I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading what you find in here! This journal goes back almost two years now so I hope I have improved, and I thin...
