Thursday, September 15, 2016

My Pieta


Where a part of your soul has lost a limb
an awkward and hallow gait
a phantom of fulfillment
haunts the memory of
journeys once shared.

such limbs can not be replaced
only buried under new joys
if luck prevails

Today I held a tear
as remembrance surfaced
of shared mirth

I held the wound
my pieta
and thought of you.





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