31-Day Poem: Day Eighteen

Under the Corpse of a Setting Sun

My lips brush hers
and this is all she allows
as she backs away.
She learned to breathe on her own.

The signs were wrong,
or I wrote them to be so,
wishing for that reality.
She learned to breathe on her own.

Her eyes reflect an answer
to my hanging my head,
embarrassed for not seeing
she learned to breathe on her own.

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3 thoughts on “31-Day Poem: Day Eighteen

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