Brooke (weaseldance) wrote,

paralytic flash-back

If you were a painting, I would be your frame,
Holding you centered for the world to resist.
If you were the water, I’d be your shelter,
Savoring you, separate from salty sea.
If you were a blanket, I’d be your child,
If you were a scent I would wear you with pride,
But you’re just a memory, held by me only,
Locked behind chest plates, secret and burning.
You’re just a splash of flavor in my headspace,
Amidst all others that color my being.
My memory’s present, my present is seeking.
My words are deflected, my livestock depleting.
I miss you, though you’re with me.
I see you in my future.
I wonder why you matter.
I worry for the answer.
Tags: poetry
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