Poem: Runaway Prose


All she left you was fragments
Of broken prose, a fleeting note of
Emotion, as she ran out of your light

Because space can choke too
And your hands were unsteady
When you played with dolls

You had her make your bed
But she was quick to shake off
The smell of your detergent

He sighed as he recollected
All the carvings he had made
Each medium resisting his touch
The attempts were sub par, at best

What did he have to show
For the rooms they’d set ablaze
Struggling limbs, and throats
Choked of breath

The wooden puzzle stared
Too many pieces missing, broken
Nails, chipped plates and a black
Shoe, resting on the door step

The things that helped her escape
Radiant with purposeful significance
Only just escaped the glint of your knife


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