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Your eyes—shriveled and gray. A husk
Of past fortunes and fortitude. Hollow
And withered from the abrasion of time on mind,
The grate of tempered steel gates,
The death of that once yours, now mine.

What am I to do as you waltz through sleep,
Wrestling time’s hands wrenching memories in minutes,
Losing more of yourself and your past by the hour?
No longer do you greet me with a smile but
With a frown of bewilderment, a glower.

No angel is here to guide me nor you, or
Weave spells for wished dreams to come true.
Each day a roulette—sometimes a curse or a daze
Since the malady haunts all by leaving you,
Fragile like goldfish, in continuous mental decay.

First, your mind, and now, your body,
Washing away like fine chalk on pavement,
The sandcastle you built braving ocean waves.
Weathered piecemeal, each granule a lost memory,
A tear in the tapestry of happiness you gave.

Now, as dirt covers fibered wood, stains it
Muddy black, I stand watering the soil
And I take my time. I take my time.

About Author

Lemuel Amouh, Gina Kotinek

Gina Kotinek is the founder and Editor-in-Chief of the SPOT Lit. She is interested in social issues and enjoys implementing them into her writing in hopes that her message will be heard.

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