Only In This Space
Only in this space
do I exist,
spilling into nothingness
beyond these borders
that hold me here.
I am no more than
a faint echo clinging
to the silence inside
your head, a voice
seeking form to make
this shadowy existence
of mine move in a memory
or to inflame something
left long ago in a sad corner
of your life.
I have no breath,
only these words with which
to live for a moment
in your mind,
not as a person
put together with what
can be seen, but a mere
whisper spoken in a dream,
something small, imprisoned
in the centre of who you are,
an enigma that remains
just out of reach
of being known,
the ephemeral
in search of a home.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2022
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