We’ve met here before. I remember the skin I wore at the time Stored in my closet Along with the husk of words you assured promised our future
You stoop and scramble picking up pieces of myself scattered on the floor refrigerator magnets of words and phrases you live to assemble telling you what you want to hear lifeless, silent arranged neatly thoughtlessly in a dissintegration of meaning.
My open palm continues your lifeline etched forever on my skin I scrub to erase how you’ve bore into me how I carry you. My hand reaches to clasp a future carrying the scar of things past a neon sign lights flickering … Continue Reading “Holding Pattern by Steve Gerstung”