by Jennifer C. Gutierrez

As if im stepping on withered leaves
the sound made from the touch of my feet
sent chills to my body
and sadness to my soul

I felt like crying for some may say, as nothing
on evenings and bouts such as this
this is not elevation of something
but the anions are reacting

on ephemeral senses I float
like a feather in my bed
at times when Im with the world
iI feel like an insect in an amber
I am displaced , I am misplaced

find me on the farthest end of the poles
find me mister
this is another day in the pit
that I can never be sweet

maybe maybe the moon has it
or the eyes just failed to see
yes, they were stung by a bee
only known to me...

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