It’s as though I stick my toes
into the black pit of pain
to check the temperature.
I slip in gently and tiptoe around
quietly, as not to disturb.

Eventually, I’m wandering cautiously
into each dark corner, peering
Unsatisfied, I begin picking up dark memories.
I exam them from every angle trying
to see what I could have missed.

Looking for solutions, too late
to change the outcome.
Forever moving slowly to avoid
a stirring, a breeze, to unsettle layers
of misjudgments and misunderstandings.
Never finding answers to the questions
that haunt me.

Poem copyright protected, and the property of Victoria Feathers, and not to be used without permission.


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