Revival of Breath (A Note to Self)

The way they wept when you left,
all you longed for in yourself
why and why and why.

Why did you go?

Where were your eyes, what
did they see? Was anger so rich
in your heart, a flood for
their sputter-mouths,
making sense of defeat,
of a final win, unknown or missed.

And you?

The point down, sharp curves at top, an
arrow touching the ground,
into it spilled the Disney night
silent unchecked, a band of
sun mist around your
neck, eating your eyes,
imploring the jigsaw.

Avoid the flesh,
murderer of self,
a simple death.
Here is the frigid
revival of breath.

Published by: crucifixionqueen

Full-time freelance developmental editor and evaluator, writer, mom, know-it-all. I have an MFA in fiction from NC State University, an MA from Manhattanville College, and a BA from SUNY Purchase. I'm here to make the world a better place.

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