Even as I hold you
I think of you as someone gone
Far, far away. Your eyes the colour
of pennies in a bowl of dark honey
bringing sweet light to someone else
your black hair slipping through my fingers
is the flash of your head going
around a corner
your smile, breaking before me,
the flippant last turn
of a revolving door,
emptying you out, changed,
away from me.
Even as I hold you
I am letting go.
Alice Walker, “Even as I Hold You”
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