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.
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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!