Lost, mid-sentence



I wanted to
write the words,
but they lay heavy
on my chest
their sound
a faint whisper
in the grays
of uncertain dialect.
the silence soothes
but often,
it deepens the grooves
of disconnect.
I feel
I feel
the distance
between the colors
and their hues
between the writer
and the muse.
My hands reach
but hold empty thoughts
that roll quietly
on an empty tongue.
I lay parched
beneath a blazing sun
my last words
need be spoken,
but I don’t’ know
what to say.

(c) Sumyanna 2018


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