splinter
almost– the absence of attempt; anchor
to my insides, a full stop in the place
of a comma. the warmest of ambers
can never glow green, and i’m tempting fate
in trying to turn embers to emerald.
my perfect manuscript turned to cinders
and the last of you left only pencilled
snippets of a story bound to dwindle
into nothing. i’m difficult to love.
an antonym to most words. a harsh sound
in the middle of sibilance. among
partial syllables, waiting to be found.
i exist in the space between outcomes,
hoping that, one day, i may be enough.
21.12.2018
