Sorrows follow you like a stray dog,
like monologue of a snow-swept winter,
prolonged, nagging
or memories like precious crystals
polished daily,
like unsaid words that silence the quietness
unfurled, hung to air-dry,
or hidden like hush-hush lingerie,
fragile stickers worn as sapphires, on faces,
still a few, you will find in closets, not yet unwrapped
These aren’t my words,
not my lines; I was told
tears cuddle them in lone showers
forsaken alleys catnap with them
laundromats staring on sedate Mondays
lone trains sing them lullabies in the rain
whistles, flutters, moans, whispers, cries hear them
Sorrows follow you like a Russian spy.
