burning coals

PenFireSmallevery now and then one comes across a writer who leaves a burning coal behind when the web link flashes out of sight. i came across one such writer yesterday.

cheryl moore.

she shifts, holds me for a moment, like she used to, as if she welcomes the comfort, the closeness and kisses me. “hi!” she says, as if she’s been caught off guard, emotionally. our bodies connect, so briefly i’m unable to grieve properly, as she pushes me away, and gets out of bed. “i can’t. i’m sorry.”

“where are you going?”

“my piano.” she says with vodka on her breath. “i need her.”

if you get it, you do, if you do not, then i cannot explain it to you.

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