Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

i am nothing

perhaps it is because
i hold no place in his daily life

in no way requisite

my long dark hair
his lack thereof

he says i give him goosebumps

he wants to buy me shoes
even though he knows i don’t need another pair
i will think of him each time i wear them

acceptance offered by warm bosom
sweet breathed mother sighs
his face nestled into my pale pink sweater
where tears wet dark skin

the allure of the old country
in the last season of life

i am nothing
but someone
he lost

so he brings me fruit too beautiful to eat

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