What Remains
Today I feel unreal.
‘Decohered.’
Like a suitcase full of writings
and knick-knacks and scribbles
torn asunder.
Splintered.
And the collection that was contained
therein can no longer interact
in the same manner.
But then calmly you sit
and take into yours my hand
so that one thing remains-
I want to stay here.
Copyright © Erin Beckett | Year Posted 2024
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