the miniature fire, my
last embrace of warmth,
has burned out, and the
smoldering remains are
growing cold, too. and I
think about you and I feel
you in my bones, as if you
are along for the ride, hug-
ging me, and pressing me
close to your chest.
but you are not real. you
are not meant to be the
source of my vitality, or
my strength. did my faith,
and the visions, waver in
the cold?
i think I will always question
if I was not elegant enough
for you. not well dressed, or
well-mannered, or if I should
have made a move despite my
reality. that part I haven't yet
reconciled. maybe that's how
I got here. maybe that's the
purpose, for however long or
short, I can try to speak your
name, and talk to you as if you
had chosen me, as if you were
still here.
i don't feel the sadness I thought
I would. i don't feel empty, either.
the nod of the head, the quick snap
of a branch, and I move on.
that's it. there's nothing to it.
was it like that for you?
STAI LEGGENDO
SUMMIT
PoesiaHello there, ambitious climber. Welcome to this prose-poetry chapbook called "SUMMIT". This prose-poetry chapbook explores decision making in high-stakes situations, immense loss and grief, and choosing to reach the summit in spite of all the obstac...
