Читать книгу Hold Them Close - Sarah Agnew - Страница 8

the edges of my happy wrinkle,

burnt with the flame of sad, a light

remembered in a darkened room;

I had you near a short, sweet time—

The End came from far, too soon.

my happy is torn in many places,

holes and gaps and empty spaces;

you, and they, and here, and now,

wrapped raggedness with sacred leaves,

a holy cover holding tight

for a while.

could we but rest a moment

longer within that blissful binding if

this book could only be

the only story in your library?

but suddenly, or seemingly, it is

undone,

you are gone, and I,

once more,

am all