some things hurt us more than all the others
~
sometimes, time dredges up the pain of our old selves;
memories of poisons we’ve drunk and those we’ve made
the beauty of our face is made unpleasant by our re-livings;
the heart burns and sobs, a prisoner to the scorching coals inside
we must remain perfectly still
lest we further fuel the fire that consumes us
everything we see, we have seen before,
and before that,
and now it flickers in our eye once again.
saara 