One a Day: Monody

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I miss sitting close
enough to feel each other’s body heat.
Tracing his lifeline,
feeling the ridges on his index finger,
aligning mine with his.

Now I live without him,
My heart, mellowed by age.
But I miss the intimacy
of holding his hand.

Our loss echoes in the silence.

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Post Script: NPM: All the World’s a Stage (Poem 14)

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Stark lights flash on flesh
that bleeds out under the glare.
Is it just me out here?

I think I hear laughter but maybe,
it is just my echo bouncing
off the noiseless gloom,
causing my stumble out of the light.

Knees planted firmly on heartwood,
I look down into the hollow.

True self, solid form,
taunting me – its pallid echo.

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