Summer’s turned
to a grey blanket
oppressive, anaerobic
Photos in an envelope
take the good
hold on to it, bank it
The warmth of the sun
of your gaze
of the past, tender, gone
Sealed at dawn
adhesive bittersweet
that ghostly liaison
reduced to whispers
within the haze
archived, not deleted
Hope’s turned
from outward, claustrophobic
to inward, in my lungs
And I take a breath
//
THE FLICKERING FOREVER is now a poem every fortnight to try to bring that part of me back and get some output. This one was written on the fly. Typically I spend much longer on them.
My previous longer personal posts are still free, but future ones will be restricted to my paid audience.
Have a great weekend!