Crumb by Karla Moran

This is a poem that I once wrote long ago as I was younger and had published it on an old page of mine. I came across it and in awe remembered how special it was to me and I hope it touches you and connects with you on a profound level as it did me when I wrote it. It is about careless young love and how one can withhold feelings for a very long time and yet be happy about the memories. Enjoy, Karla Moran.

You graze my flesh wide open like a rotten pumpkin with sharp silence every time I get the opportunity to share a glance with you. You never say a word, I only hear your raspy voice in the back of my suffocated, overworked mind. Such a complex and cold thing of you to do, to pretend to have forgotten the few nights that your body kept mine warm; skin to skin, close as can be, and still feeling as if an ocean and all the seven continents distanced us.

How was I such a fool?

Now that I think about it, we never did speak much often. See, our conversations worked like the rain and sometimes it would rain for days, but more often than not it was sunny. But such a huge storm would pass through my heart, destructing every bit of hope, as the moon was out bright illuminating the cold, cold nights of my Michigan soul.

And when the wind was breezy, and the air smelled fresh, I couldn't help but wish that you would graze my flesh again. Even if it meant hearing your silence for a single night. Even if it meant feeling distant. Even if it meant a bigger disappointment once the wind howled and stole you as it does dandelion petals.

Because I know I will never fully own you, I'm willing to settle for a crumb of you.

The End

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