someone broken
returned her
chipped,
marble sacrifice,
fallen angel toppled
off the back --
one too many
questionable turns
down a dead -end street
*
patron saint of underdogs
I got her for a song
for you
and now
I cannot even
look her in the eyes
*
you held my waist
and waited
for me
to keep you safe,
your helmet
too big to fit
just yet
*
you hold on to me
still,
even now
*
I place white tulips
at your angel’s wobbly feet
and try to whisper
solemn words
like prayers
*
I can’t…
*
silence tenses
in my gut
and I pretend
to check the time
as if
we
have someplace else
to be
and it’s my job
to get you there
*
and still
I am here
and
you are
here
*
so I close the gate
behind myself
and walk the cobblestones
reminded of your tiny feet
and your short sweet stride,
and how you’d lift up
your hand to hold mine
and the last time you
held my hand
and the last time you
held my waist
and the last time
you let go
and
*
you whisper
let go.
let me go
*
and I am leaving you behind
in a room
with a view
and a winged marble martyr
someone
broken
once
returned
***
Copyright © 04/28/2020 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.
About the Creator
Christy Munson
My words expose what I find real and worth exploring.
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