Road

the road to hell can
start anywhere –
my niece bit my finger –

a word falls and
decelerates – I try to guess
what you might say –
when the rose retracts
its bloom, I spit out
the shard in my throat that
whispers still,

I am alive – but what is life
without what I have –
of you, your laugh –

we drive so fast –
you ask me how my day was
and I can’t remember

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