Sometimes,

Sometimes,

at night

I wonder

could I pour the coffee

back into the pot

and the blood

inside the wound

sealed

not healed

just

never torn

could I gather

the things that spilt

from tongue to air

and push it

back

babies screams

not silenced but

unborn

unknown

yet-to-be

and if the light from

the stars

had not yet reached

streched

into feelings

and could be separated

like sequins from a dress

could I make the rain

rain

backwards

evaporation on a mass scale

pulled back to the sky,

simply because

I tried?

 

[Photo credits: Public-Domain-Photos.com]

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