Worst Betrayal

Gentlest morning, and I touch
this quiet smile, lightly,
trust joy, us…

Sister shares a sad word,
where he enjoyed her honour
over me – been with, drank…

A language so strong that
dare can, in evening,
sounding old, never forget.

(Words courtesy of Magnetic Poetry online.)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

12 thoughts on “Worst Betrayal”

  1. Some things linger longer than others. The poet seeks moments of reflection, sometimes resolution and sometimes more questions. Thanks for being on this journey with me. ❤️

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