Smoke

If I could just find
Something else.
Hidden under years of dust.
Pale smoke eddies glisten in the sun.
Stale and broken promises
Where the rest is left
Up to God.
From way below
We’ll never know
Such a merry repertoire.
Not where smoke inhaled alone
Won’t mean coughing up a single word.

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Filed under memories, poem, poetry, promises, ptsd, repression, smoke

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