less than 1 minute read

CW: death

Your library is now scattered.
Yellowing paperbacks you found
by chance in second-hand markets,
hardbacks with messages inscribed
on the first page, the much read,
the dogeared, the pristine copies,
the underlined, all now are removed
from your shelves and returned back
to the world. Those words were always
loaned. Given the absence of you,
the catalogue that arranged the spines,
we dispersed piles to charity shops,
disintegrated each memory and each
sentimental gift. Your neurons too,
were always borrowed, now separated
into atoms and thrown back into
the wild universe, to be reused or
discarded or recombined into new
words, new combinations, new life.

Prompt was “object permanence” in the Poetry in the time of being alone group. Halfway through!



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