Lone White Horse


I rap my knuckles upon a closed door.

I hear a voice that seems like broken glass upon barefoot.

I drive pass a white horse with no rider.

I ask…

‘Does it ever end?’ my one and long time friend.

She speaks in a whisper…

‘I am beginning to wonder that myself.’

Skin raw and filled with excess debris.

Fingers bent and calloused.

As one, I ask, ‘do you see me?’

So this is where we lay.

Open to the chaos of black new days.

I could grow older but then maybe not.

I asked, my long time friend…

‘does this ever end?’

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