bittersweet memory

did i find Proust, or did he find me?

Marcel's whispering to me

of something from long ago

within the storm of adolescence

that I tried to kill inside myself

to inure myself to this world.

 

and in failing

i chose instead to bury it

deep in a hidden place;

but i've come full circle

on my knees in the moonlight

digging with bleeding hands;

i am awake.

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