Walls

If it was just the walls
that speak your name.

Like each grain of sheet rock
that finds a way through the paint.

The candles are out again.
The vapor signature releases.

Which draft we begin.
Open, open.

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2 thoughts on “Walls

  1. This poem makes me feel like vapor, ends chasing ends in search of a meaning. This is a very challenging work. Kudos.

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