Drawers reopened speak, words broken wind
disordered
curled up and closed up
in hidden corners of memory and heart. As this box
that almost my age
found in the drawer. The dusting
and clutching
and shake her
Magone and memories.
Plan
open the metal cover that contain cookies
to rediscover the colors that you kept in touch
slightly
wires and splilli
that pierce into
painless to make the outside
Nothing has been moved.
's all as you left,
as a relic to be worshiped.
Colors you
arranged so prescient
like you know what day I would serve. The white
to mend the gap, the blue
to mend inner peace, the green
to mend the trust,
The pink patch up dreams to mend
Black anger,
to reject his feet on his head .. .
... The red stitching on the heart.
missing is a color that does not exist: The color
to mend your absence
impossible to mend.
