Remnants
Remnants of passion littered on the ground,
Drops of blood from the lips of hounds.
Running might save you,
But the door’s locked,
And your soul’s frostbitten.
Recall-
The ache to leave.
There’s a standstill. A hush,
Before you dash.
The longing won’t be sealed,
And you’ll think it’s your chance
To fly, to flee, to be.
But you can’t unclip these wings,
You can’t undo these manacles.
You fly in circles
Over charred lands.
Watching fragments of hope
drift in quiet winds.
There are remnants of dreams scattered on the ground,
A deflated ball of hope.
You look in your hand
And find you’re holding scissors.
---Abi.
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