presence of absence

He took up residence in my belly,
became an aching in my gut

a presence of absence

eyes, hair, skin,
poking holes in my resolution
to move on;
his sweeter words echoing
through the halls,
knocking down monuments to
as they went.

as heartbreak does, he sat
heavy in my stomach
a stone so smooth and round
you almost wish it would stay.

But it passed; one night I found
among a suddenly-amassed pile of contended ness
the small dagger of his image
and it pricked –
but it did not burn.

May ’12


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x





All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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