A Poem for the Extraordinary


The way her voice found me through the void felt like the warmth of yesterday’s embrace.
It was certain, and it is eternal-ly imprinted in the back of my eyelids.
And somehow I manage to feel your touch as her voice tickled the hairs on my arms,
And danced so graciously to the beat of my eardrums.
It was extraordinaire. 
You were extraordinaire.
But the melodic echo faded and she was gone.
There is no song left to play that records the diaristic pain that I woke up to.
And so, I am stuck; frozen in nothingness. Just this numbness.
If you listen closely, they are the same.
If you listen closely, her voice reaches me again until the image of you becomes the black blanket covering the back of my eyelids.

Falling into a new embrace; falling asleep.

A poem by Shayla Hickerson

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