Moving forward

She opens the book, her book

Gently she touches the page, uncurls the corner piece. Autobiography. Distance. Closeness.

She finishes the page, pauses. Reflects, words mirror. 

Who’s book? Her book. She rereads. Rereads. Rereads the same page, the same words, the same hate.

The same love, the brave, an escape. Movement and pause.

And vogue. And stroke. The bold words, the font, bleeds, it bleeds, it bleeds.

She stops. Rereads, hands shaking to turn the page. A knot in her throat. A not in her perspective. Transfixed. 

Stuck feeling, breathe.

Exhale and turn.

Forward to the next chapter. A sigh.


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