Memos from the Middle

Smack-Dab in the Middle of Living

Dark Spot

The peace crept away little by little
on the backs of words felt but unspoken.
Dusty dreams line the corridors of memory,
too close to forget, too far to realize,
as we teeter on the edge of delusion,
a balance beam of life.

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3 thoughts on “Dark Spot

  1. Beautiful poem!

    Adieu, scribbler

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