Details |
Samantha Furry Poem
You are a debt I pay in every breath.
A phantom limb that still tries to catch my fall,
anchored in the dirt where the sun cannot reach.
I am the kite, and you are the stone
tied by a silver cord that grew into a spine.
I feel you in the cold static of the bedsheets,
a hollow space that has its own gravity,
pulling my skin toward a shape that no longer exists.
It is a biological betrayal to still be warm
while the other half of my pulse is cooling in the dark.
I walk through the days like a bruise
waiting for the hand that caused it to return.
I am a locked door with the key buried
in a coat pocket six feet underground.
To love you now is to love the wind
it has no face, but it can still tear me down.
We are a bridge that collapsed in the center;
I am standing on the edge of the jagged wood,
reaching for a shadow across the water,
learning that "forever" is just a long way
to say goodbye.
Copyright © Samantha Furry | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Samantha Furry Poem
I did not ask to be a twin-room for a ghost.
But here you are,
tucked behind the soft tissue of my lungs,
moving when I move,
a second pulse thrumming in the hollows
where the logic used to live.
This is not a ribbon tied to a finger.
It is a graft.
It is the way the skin of a fruit
scars over a puncture—
the metal is gone, but the shape of the blade
is written into the sugar.
I feel you in the radiator’s hiss,
a phantom heat that doesn't warm the room
but scalds the blood.
It is a terrifying symmetry;
when you bruise, I taste copper.
When you turn in your sleep,
miles of dark highway away,
the sheets beneath me go cold
as if the North Star just lost its place.
I am tired of carrying two lives
on one set of tired feet.
I tried to unthread you once,
but the needle came back wet with my own history.
I realized then:
to pull the string is to unravel the sweater.
To lose the tie is to lose the throat.
So I keep the ache.
I wear it like a heavy, velvet coat
in the middle of July.
I let you breathe my air
because I no longer remember
which breath was mine to begin with.
We are two mirrors
shattered in the same earthquake,
each shard still trying
to reflect a sky
that we broke together.
Copyright © Samantha Furry | Year Posted 2026
|