Photo by Judah Wester on Unsplash
What Was Ours, Unnamed
We had something—
fragile, trembling,
but ours.
I know it,
I felt it,
it bloomed between us
like light on paper.
And now it is left unnamed,
discarded without closure,
like a song cut short
mid-note,
its echo aching in the air.
About the Creator
The Duelist
The rays of a dying red sun flashed against the onrushing blade. The grey beards say the key to dueling lies in size, speed, reach, righteous fury, whatever the person in front of them pays them to say. Matteo knew better than any it was none of these and had an undefeated record on these sands to prove it.
By Matthew J. Fromma day ago in Fiction
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