It has been a long while now since I walked the circle of white.
My childhood packed up into two Hefty trash bags - tearing at the edges of my fingertips.
A meteor impact was the End of Beginning, its approach incessantly shoved down my throat like he did to his liquor.
How dearly I miss it there...
I remember the sweltering summers that clung to me like his willow eyes.
Countless white plaster shipping containers grew like my Nana's untended garden.
Hydrangeas swallowed the little space between them entirely.
Beneath their roots lay soil akin to moon dust - smelling faintly of Appalachia and Blue Camel cigarettes.
The lunar surface raged with wildfires - and despite it all - everything was just so suffocatingly Green.
I wished relentlessly that the End of Beginning would never become my eventual reality
Counting down the days until zero, the impact forever destroyed my home.
And despite it all,
He was my End of Beginning.
End of Beginning
More by MillieMilesinTheWild
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Poetry Practice: Night to Dawn
In the still of night,
Shadows dance and play.
Soft moonlight fades,
As stars begin to sway.
Silent whispers ofDarkness start to fade;
As first light of dawn
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Wisp Wind
You've left me alone
But the world keeps on spinning
I am bleeding endlessly.
And I don’t know what to do.
I forget the color of your eyes
And the smell of your mountain breath.
-
Red Clover
I dream of him less than I used to –
But our story always starts the same.
I am small, and his oil-stained hands hold me like the Red Clover,
So tightly that I think he’ll never let me go.
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