Treasure Island

Mo Piquette


Burden of Experience


Everyday
I forgive myself.

Tunnels fostered by tall buildings
shape flashbacks like wind,
striking with each corner I take,
Swirling and sweeping
the dirt of yesterday into thin air.

Obliviously inhaled.

Hissing through clenched chattering teeth
some lips never learn to close
before choking on the debris of past storms.

An itch that won't go away
Some call it a 'tickle'
Some say, 'nothing a little water can't handle'.

Everyday
Emotions swallowed

Everyday
A bit eroded

Until awareness unearthed
Then forgiveness was grounded.

A choice of mastery
to be free.

Submitted: Saturday, December 28, 2013

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