Reflections: A Poem

Under the streaked window and the dust-bunnied cracks are the streams of light that come from staring too long; the whisps drawing across the room like a megaphone.

A standstill in a game of tug-a-war. A glimpse in the mirror.

For free, the advice I give. I nod off, “Leave a tip on the counter.”

The words slip and shatter on the floor. I bend to brush them up; their shards stick in me like splinters.

I’m speechless.

I turn to leave with the words within; how I long for them to be without. I shout!

Love, Jaclynn

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