21 September

Missent words
reflected in a new
message grow
old.

To taste the touch
to leave me in
the dark – is
this a sign unrecognised?

Too much talk
on an empty mind.
That’s what
this is –

or could it be?

A blind side
unrecognised.

Whining myself
on talk below the
mind, yet the mindless
thoughts house
themselves securely and sure.

Leave me,
remove them;
this I know,
is only a worthless
request.

Flint afore my
eyes, sparks from
a stone, the knowledge
of decisions
from nights ago
freshen the skin in an
unnamed shame.

But were the decisions
regret or correct –
that is what I still
need to know.

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