I hold my breath, sobs tethered
behind a faltering smile.
Your words fasten like a knife
in the grove of my intestines.
I never leave enough
room for goodbyes.
–
From the river’s edge
the willow’s shriek,
long limbs contorted
with each torn exhale.
Possessed with grief
I choose my reply carefully
but the delivery still scars.
Powerful Yves as always, beautifully written. The word ‘shriek’ slams you between the ears doesn’t it.
It really does Micheal and thank you for your kind words!
wow, very intense!