Consists of
Two turkish apricots
And enough black
Coffee to chase
Last night's insomnia
Away
The full moon
Brings
Fever to my skin
And my mind
Is as restless
As the wind
That uprooted
The weeping willow
In my backyard
Longing to feel
Content in my stillness
I meditate for peace
To wash over me
She never shows
My bruises are fading
From violet to green
And I don't reach
For the whiskey
As often as I used to
Minute by minute
I breathe through
Each day
Holding lightly and
Unfurling my fists
To watch the
Crescent scars
Disappear.
~Amber Comber 2016
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