January 7, 1991 0250I'm not thinking of him
the one who has caused me grief.
I'm not thinking of the icy way he stares
or the frigid fingertips that never touched me gently.
I won't even comment on how,
regardless of his absence,
He touches my heart with his as if
I held a deep, red
charred version of his own
In a sacred place within my soul.
I'm also not thinking of how my life will be
Though I'm sampling a taste of
bitter loneliness now,
as I write this to you.
Only he has been able to
grab my spirit and
hold it hostage
in the cold place.
Poetry by Gretchen Hunter
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Written on 2010-01-01 at 22:34
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