deepundergroundpoetry.com

Berceuse Reflection

 
In her rusted Ford Fiesta
she plays her favourite songs
(loud and painfully)
and remembers.

Her blooded knuckles
forgot
how to take a breath,
gorging on the choking-hearted
screams of distant babies.
Queasy thoughts
release her guts
before she wets her throat.

I'm coralled
by another's loss
and digital rain
from a child's toy, I switch
it to the sea and gulls.
I can almost smell the breeze,
but I've forgotten how.
Written by MrAlptraum (Mr A)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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