
powder from the pieces of earth
you pulled from your bag and
placed on the glass top of my bedroom desk
remains in a pile of physical evidence―
you were here last night
...
I could’ve wiped them away
a paper towel, a garbage can
but why would I do that when, instead
I can accidentally graze the pile with
unaware fingertips
until I pull them away to see
speckled remains on my prints
an instant reminder―
you were here last night
now I know for sure that it wasn’t a dream
…
two days later
still, traces remain
I don’t think I’ll ever clean them up
About the Creator
Skylar Whitney
Introvert at heart. Lover of journaling, free-verse poetry, and poutine.



Comments (1)
I love rocks! Great work!