poetry Uncategorized

poem hung on a wall with a coin slot beside it

this morning’s coffee tastes like survival,
but i’m in the mood for redemption

we all seek it
in our own way

for it not to exist
would mean
there is no point

to the breath we take
to those we forsake
to the love we make

i am seeking my own

where will you
find yours?

(for B.)

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