Certain Scars

The way we said goodbye
sounded so different this time,
the tone of my own voice
came with me as I left,
carrying itself between
the back of my mind
and the tip of my tongue
where every step I took
only took me further away
from our restless nights
where our bacon mornings promised us
that one day we’d grow fat together,
as if on purpose,
like our tired driveway bodies
would one day become stretch mark highways
that could always bring us back home.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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