Remnants [Fiction 55]

| Posted in , , , | Posted on 3:37 AM

I bump into you again—
Remnants of what remain
Are scattered, haphazardly
On the ground, on you and me.

Nobody picks them; they lie
There transfixed, silently.
There are too many to count;

None of us any peace found,
And none of us said goodbye:

Pieces lie there awhile, and die.


18th Fiction 55.

I'm officially back, bitches. Time to start blogging again. B)

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