A Brief Memory

Truth is

I am numb.

From the thunder,

The wicked thrumming,

In the humming of your

Ghost toward here; donning,

Swirling,

Curling;

A wisp of dream,

A toppling of a tower

From memory.

From reopened 

Scar. Pouring outward,

I’m dead from fear. 

But nearer

To

Some 

God. 

3 thoughts on “A Brief Memory

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