terça-feira, 12 de abril de 2016

The truth

the truth

admit your flaws
and i will open the book
of my weaknesses. tell me
your story, as you best remember:
an unlit path you walked along
once, midnight through the park
and someone was crying for help.
did you turn a deaf ear, throw
the last stone, or perhaps hold out
 a paddle to the child turning 
 circles in the current of the
 river? a trail drives me back
further than memory.  i pick
my version, all that is left
of the facts.

-  miriam

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