the truth of it

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
it’s been ages and my 
fingers are cement, brain
turned on its side and 
left in a dust coat, shelved.

some days I study my own 
face and try to remember,
other days I remember too
much and try to forget.

my mouth moves
and I hear nothing -
words are fraying tethers.

I am all at once here and
barely anywhere, a pin in the 
dark, a soundless tune, but 
always dancing towards the light.

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