Frame

At the base of distance,
leaning into the membrane
an edge waits,
it preys on the hesitant,
to swallow their flames
the tongues
lapping up the air like wild dogs
in orange and blue light.
When I feel like giving up,
my reasons to breathe hide,
like deleted scenes,
forgotten memories,
and the broken plans
for far away days.

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About Sean O'Gorman

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

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