Saturday, March 2, 2019

Pressed Napkins

A lonely teardrop waits
upon a rosy cheek
With beating heart, I seek
redemption. I am yours
My heart wars silently
A passing ship, unseen
Still waters anchor my
broken, seeking my truth
Lost at sea, pining for
shores left behind. Buried
promises, sunken treasure
This piece of me now gone
Still I hope. Our stories
folded like pressed napkins
Blackened soul, like charcoal
holding hope in our hands

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