Move Me Poetry
Published in

Move Me Poetry

Control

A (dark) poem.

Not Waving, But Drowning — Image taken by the author.

Just me and my past in a dark room
Consumed.
I shy from the light, never
In bloom, just consumed. Your perfume, those
Old tunes — all around, now.

Out of control, for a while now.

My tongue rots when I speak of the past.
Breath turned toxic fast, dropped out of the
Class…

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