Leah Smith // LETTER

It can hold a friendship.

Wrinkled memories dancing on

shiny squares, in suitcases

that travel the world.

 

It can hold a love story.

From Dear to Love,

the i’s tipped with heart hats,

a light fragrance.

 

It can hold a question.

Needing direction

after its first journey, asking,

what will the next one hold?

 

It can hold a shattered heart.

Black and blurred,

shaky marks forming

an i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e whole.

 

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