Closure

By Rose Bence

 

You Burned me and carved your initials

Into my poetry

And the ashes are

Still swirling years later

 

My pen chases echoes of hashtags and art

Raging and still not burning out

I’m still waiting for the flame from matchstick to finger

But nothing is catching

 

My ink refuses to etch

I chase your poetry instead

I hunt the moon between clicks

And scrolls, hoping to find the sun

 

Musing, hating, missing, waiting

Where did you go?

Is this the end?

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