Wednesday, 12 April 2017

Thief

Put in my place,
a hanging basket of weeds,
for all to mock,
I hear you say 'forgive'.

Not knowing how to start,
I ask you to remember me,
as light begins to stalk,
Your frank assurance drops,
pick-pocketing the fear
of these ticking clocks,
with a word in my ear,
'Today you will be with me'
in paradox.

1 comment:

  1. A dear friend's husband overdosed a month ago at the age of 32. For some reason your words fill my soul as I have stood by her through the loss, the condemnation, the anger and fear and staggering grief. Such things are a paradox and so entwined...although I'm quite sure your inspiration for this piece was nothing of the sort. "Your frank assurance drops,
    pick-pocketing the fear of these ticking clocks,"...I simply adore this.

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