Poetry

Scream

“All that remains of us is a deafening silence,
and all I want to do is scream.”

In the mourning, I felt it. Your kiss, a ghost upon my dry lips. Your hand, resting against mine. And that sound of your breathing as you slept next to me — that gentle rumble in the back of your throat, a haunting memory. All that remains of us is a deafening silence, and all I want to do is scream.

© Sarah Doughty

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36 thoughts on “Scream”

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