Poetry: The Blanket


The feeling is one of shrinking, closing,

Tightening, with a certain tinge of shame

Shattering chains of logic that gave birth

To the feeling. My great sin was to give

Without expectation, but while I knew

Hope might survive a lingering echo,

I moved on, a vision of purity

Attached to my motives, and expected

Nothing. The circle is sealed, the zero

Formed, and I feel a fool while I forgive

The unconscious slight and damn you as if

You were cause, not effect, of childhood tales,

Of threadbare beliefs that a frightened boy

Clung to while shrinking, closing, tightening.


Photo Credit: ABSTRACT ARTISTIC BACKGROUND © Vanias | Dreamstime.com

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