Maybe someday I’ll quit looking
At that empty picture frame
That’s hung upon the wall
Inside my room,
The dust that coats its glass
A sort of cataract to shut
The painful absences beneath it
From my sight.

I hung it all that time ago
In anger and exhaustion,
So the burdens that
It could’ve held would ease,
An empty memory to look at once
And then forget
When all the weight of
My remembering was crushing.

But there it hangs, a void to carry,
Dense with old goodbyes
I’d hurried long before
They loaded me with doubt,
An epitaph for nothing
And for no one
On the wall above me
Sightless and so filled
With your descriptions.

#Paris #France

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