leenaslockin

Waiting Room, II by ellie berry

 
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I’ve been meaning to come back, y’know.
But my plates were full and
even having waitressed all through college
I felt like I couldn’t carry much more,
couldn’t pause to examine one closely.

I did make it there once, recently.
It was an hour earlier than before
and when leaving I saw a shape, sitting
a black blob I was too afraid to turn towards,
to see.

I hope you’re okay.

 
 

Something of a follow-up, to this previous poem.