Such a tiny little word
only 4 letters,
well-balanced – 2 vowels, 2 consonants
one syllable
that can tear you apart
and leave scars that never heal
sounding like the wings
of a moth at my window
as dusk sets in
yet with none of the lightness.
Fire that scorches as it travels
the veins.
Scorching
memories stab
into the wounds
a fine mess of feelings and nerves.
Tears-> Bruffen to keep the pain down
Will time heal?
or will it spread like my aunt’s bone cancer?
leaving behind a shell
coloured pink
with streaks of red.
(Signalling the return of my poetry)
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