Poem: us, the discarded

Creative Commons photo.

My latest original five-line poem.

us, the discarded

i think about the two wedding gowns they grew into without me
white, unblemished by a past of being with me; i guess
clean slates are more like layers to be built upon rather
than wiped away, but that’s hardly solace for the discarded —
for the ones buried in a waking reality.

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