departure
it is before morning when I hear you calling
I turn my head
and find your mouth open with light
illuminating this very last hour
now as I watch it unfold
the beauty of our failures
holds the image of our hands
in water
I lie still and let the tide
erase the structure
line by line
until the mirror opens up
And there is nothing left to hold
Poetry by Emelén
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Written on 2015-05-08 at 17:00
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