When sixteen

I remember


souled in succus,

and drowned in each drop

was hope, hope, hope-

to save,

to change,

to tremble


to matter,

and shift planes

with the recycled shake

of the age.

I remember

bright cathedrals

purpose-built and

lined one after another

with coral sand shining

on burgundy cushions

for a world to care.

I remember

on a bland bed

they all crashed down

to reveal a Sunday morning clear-esque

when someone said

it’s all nothing to nothing

on a pale blue speck.   

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Image –


2 thoughts on “When sixteen

  1. Pingback: Eating Like A Refugee | The Ration Challenge | Ramisa the Authoress

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