private room

poetry – by D.e.e.L

she whispered something i could not hear
the burning ash in my fingers much too loud
i exhaled
she was never one to repeat herself
and now i’ll never know what it was that she had whispered
before letting go
the burning ash of my cigarette was much too loud
it was all i could think about
it was all i really wanted to
i could not move
i could not let go

One comment

  1. reminds me a piece I did in college, if only I could dig it out of my minds murky waters, I would share it, but it will have to remain buried at sea, only resurfacing when I read beautiful sadness like this here.

    Like

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