Poem: the return

6 inklings - saturday

sometimes we lose ourselves
in a moment
in our own skin
we shrink and become lost
and blind
with emotions so raw
(they surface as burns on our tongue and eyes)

words are no longer familiar
associations of objects
we grew to love
we unravel
a tedious note played
with clumsy fingers
by a three-year-old
in the humid afternoons

sometimes we find ourselves
in burning shame
but there’s a smile
in the creases somehow
as you can claim that shame as yours once more.

– cumuloq ❤


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