This, too.

After all this time, ⁣
I wonder how you’re doing. ⁣
My bones tell me ⁣
to be angry with you ⁣
for walking away when ⁣
you promised not to. ⁣
But my heart pretends ⁣
to understand you ⁣
and gives excuses for you. ⁣
Do you miss me? ⁣
Or did I become ⁣
like one of the streets ⁣
in one of the cities ⁣
that you once visited: ⁣
a distant memory ⁣
that you don’t remember unless ⁣
you see a picture of me ⁣
or read a poem that you once ⁣
allowed your heart to write ⁣
to me ⁣
or ⁣
about me?

Pg. 15 in Sparks of Phoenix


She shivered when she read these words.

By another woman.

But they could have been hers

It seemed as if she had gotten inside

Of all she is and was

She knows she will be missed

She will miss, too

She knows she won’t forget

And she’ll be just fine


Jeanna’ Mead

4 45 p.m. 10.22.19

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