A thing that remains after
something
is finished or ended.
What is I was six,
left at first.
over He was
from rape? 30-something?
In a child’s eyes
The making of this dish all men are
was heat ancient.
in slow coils of electric
dark-haired arms
small limbs
like bird bones and a
fluttering heart.
Since,
my history grows like neon
mold, rainbows of color
sick twisting of life
on leftovers.
I am tired of taking
apart words to
find their meanings.
Left.
Over.
Written in response to The Daily Post writing challenge for this week,here. Poem by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.wordpress.com.
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