Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

closing doors

it’s the end of the year
i can already sense
the footsteps of the next one
about to walk in without knocking
i press the side of my face,
my ear into the soil where
i buried things in order to
grow new treasures, but all that
is left is an x marking the place
where i laid those things to rest,
hoping to close old doors

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: faint

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