Posted in Photography, Poetry

Must I (Always)


Words are the clothes thoughts wear. —Samuel Beckett
Goodness knows I am worn out
from ideas and thoughts
cleansed papers hung

clothesline heavy with fresh air
sheets of perfection pressed
I wonder how to let go?

I am not the same girl
yesterday was left hanging
I brought scissors today

trimmed his hair
shorter than shoulder length
as time weighs heavy.

Sorry is painted clear
with fog surrounding our faces
and fingernails dug in earth

you reach for my dress hem
frayed from rolling down hills
and I wonder what tomorrow brings?

Mother may I
echoes through branches
as birds escape our dreams.

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