sweet stretches of highway
lay themselves out before us,
helping to deliver the bad news
that sits as dry as cotton
on the insides of our cheeks.

only one way there,
then a million back
to the reality that nothing
will make as much sense
as it did two months ago,
so clear and sharply focused,
before grips came and took
the strong part of our hearts,
the very vein that kept us
pushing ourselves to be better,
better than the person we were
the day before.

now, I’m not sure where
I should be
going.

One Response to “6.21.13”

  1. Patricia

    You express yourself beautifully, Your poetry will help you move through grief to a place of sweet sorrow.

    Reply

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