Kurt Philip Behm Poet Rhyme

Whose Moment Bleeds

The smell of
petrichor
and thunder

The taste of
solace
and goodbye

The sound of
memory’s
 last rejection

The touch of
love’s
enduring lie

That thing
that slips
between your fingers

A feeling 
lost
when foundlings cry

The sight of
vision’s
lost intention

Whose moment
bleeds
— je ne sais quoi

(The New Room: January, 2026)

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