Dust

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


 

In the morning as the sun kisses the frost goodbye,

I inhale the dust of yesterday.

It sets anchor within my belly

Leaden is my soul.

Rusted from exposure

Rain, wind, fog

Encrusted.

A new dawn brings no hope

But a day passed where still, I weigh

Too scared to exhale.


Submitted: January 31, 2021

© Copyright 2021 a.m. sharpe. All rights reserved.

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