An Aria
Sometimes ghosts flock thick and heavy
Grainy sheets of light passengers harmless and fatal
Boring microscopes of past into memory
Until the heart becomes a mine
Where strange jewels glint in dark tunnels
Paragraphs and chapters of life
Are lined into verse
A coping mechanism
Like a spacing bar to mark each breath
The distance closes its arms around
Someone found nervous and wanting
Holding onto each passing day like a coffin lined with night
As the waves sing like ghosts
A dissociative aria
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2024-05-30 at 00:41
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