Allison Grayhurst





You walk. It has been so long,

centuries wasted on grudges and bread crumbs

you should not have kept.

Evil tows its sleigh through the cold afternoon,

barren as peace without connection. You felt

fire, illness, drowning, then

the grave, and still it did not stop the hardness in your eyes,

not the strength of your fears and the lies you

told yourself to carry out your filthy betrayal.

Crafty in your emotions,

locked in the realm of paranoia and mistrust, you walk.

You mean nothing to me now. At least, it’s what

I wished for. At least, I can say – “It’s alright”

And it is, though I dream of our connection

and know the wage is high.

Though I cannot erase your remains

from my moving spokes – I will find friendship

away from your eyes. I will see you one day and feel

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