Supernova

A greenish-white light permeates my room
leaking from my computer screen--
it's hot, and the fan whirs in futility.
I'm in my favorite silk chemise,
hair piled atop my head,
and the thought of you
seeps slowly into me
all the way to my goose bumps.

Last year, this time
when you cried--
the computer geek
cold and cocky
sobbed in my arms--
you told me I was the light of your life
and what am I today, but the dim glimmer--
the aftermath...

 

1998-2000 linda lee tritton


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