I wonder
if I’ve run out
of words,

if my tongue
spews only dust,
my fingers
write smoke
through lonely air
all rigid with loss.

Am I empty of lines,
whispers I long to scream?

Am I only vast nothingness,
a cavern without a floor?

I feel different,
false in a frozen fuege,
faltering with each step,
your fingers feeling
further away than yesterday.

That’s me.



3 thoughts on “Dust

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