the sky has become a crumpled sheet

torn from my pages

the letters fall
near my feet

the mist is torn
to strips

my fingers itch
to lace through its whiteness
savour the withdrawal
dripping memories
emptying their wells

I want to find myself
the meaning
when I have mixed all colours
drawn something
I cannot     interpret

like the letter
that has got caught
on to my dress

my hands tremble
I cannot remove it
it’s glinting at me like a sequin

I’m going to sew it
right there
it will be my patch
of peace
on these washed-out threads
thinning the starch
making a veil

a see through void

like the mist

c.r. Malintha Perera 2015


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