Find me

Words jar
threatening scars.
Half sentences
letters turn to ash
and clash with
Phrases dislodge.
They are uncomfortable
to read. to feel. to breathe.
I am hungry enough
to eat my own words.
Take back time.
Clichés are hollow
but so am I.
Mountains shake.
Backs break.
Tears fall in torrents.
“I can feel you in the rain.”
We dig holes
too deep to regret
and instead
find stones that burn.
I shouldn’t be looking,
but I do.
In that odd old place
there’s a hand holding.
A scar forming.
A fire burning.

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