The other side


Looking back, our hollows
became a sink hole.
Your lipstick sealed
it’s smile with melted wax,
held back from even a sideways
Once we could pull the grey
from our blue and I knew
without looking.

Things only move down in here,
mouths get filled with dirt,
old boxes, mouldy with memories
slide away unseen. Even a syringe
that carries the cure needs blood
before it can boast of success.

Every good sink hole is an hour glass
if you hold your breath
the narrowing will pass.
Spewed out onto the surface
I step on each grain that glistens
before someone turns me over.

© savvi 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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That’s very deep, I have read it several times and see it slightly differently each time. A poem to get the reader thinking, very interesting. Sue.

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