Woman in the Blue Skirt. [On Loss]
Woman in the Blue Skirt
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How high the stairs before the summit. How pained your limbs before this journey.
How twisted the path you could never envision.
Silvery webs coat our speech, an opiate perhaps, blanketing the hesitation and discomfort.
Your tentative steps as a stranger in lands yet stranger, my voiceless ghost floating in an echo chamber of spritely choristers.
Where are our old photographs, I ache to ask, those words you’ve clutched onto until they’ve shred your tender heart. And his. And mine.
A final impression, feint. There can be no mistaking your form.
As you reach the pinnacle, with paths spread before you that we can not know, I fixate on the memory of you.
I wonder now, if you can feel my breath travelling on the warm air, fused to your hair, the ruffle in your skirt, the weight on your shoulders.
Return to me soon, I whisper. (Walking through the many parks in Warsaw)#FabPoland
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