The End of an Obsession
By Helen Barter
Panic.
Black rocks
re-opening old scars
once thought healed.
Half-remembered thoughts.
Recognised but abandoned.
Failures.
Descent.
Grabbing at a hand,
any hand,
for dear life.
A dangerous damaging grasp
ripping, ripping precious memories
and new friendships
from their foundations
sending them tumbling
downwards.
Some things land
with me.
Some are smashed.
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