A Breakup Lingers
Lindsay Killips
his voice, rust, tumbling from his barren
vocal cords a burnt sunrise flaking
despair, debris. a morning made for
mourning all the future slipping
past his cracked hands. his body
rasps against the air holding him
the same way he grew friction
like lilac fields between our
bones. i leave like ether, i leave
the same way i cry
alone and silent. find me crying
find me dead. somedays i
see rust on my balcony.
steel wool, pressure,
and a clock ticking effortlessly
forwards, reminds me
rust and my past are one
in the same, perpetually
surfacing, perpetually
i friction them back to the earth.
Flash Issue 7
Lindsay Killips is a graduate student at Walden University studying to become a licensed clinical mental health counselor. She loves to read, write, go to the beach, hike, and spend time with her friends and family. She has several publications in literary journals and has published her own collection, This Fleeting Life.