I sat down at the table while she looked at me
"Do you have anything you would like to say?"
My throat constricted - I felt weak and sick
Like I would either throw up or start screaming
The words raced in my head and fought back
Anything? Does that mean everything or nothing?
For I am an empty shell, a scratch upon the floor
a mast without a ship, an open mouth panting
A man spoke for me in a brown honey voice
"Thank you for coming here," was her reply
I show them I have been writing to you each day
Words I cannot swallow - ripe and rotten with tears
This was her favorite sketch I hear myself say
She said if she were a child she would admire it
The trees are like ghostly green shells
Disappearing into a spider's darkly woven horizon
I am walking out now down the carpeted hallway
Back to my prison reeking of grey-green and black
I turn to look and you are profiles huddling together
Someone murmurs - "I see they were very close"
I am holding on to so many memories
Greedy hands rip them out page by page
They are poked and prodded again and again
Once more they ask - "How do you define
My Love, My Life?"
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