Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | the fresh painted wall, the scent of you (133)


By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

There are things like torn paper
best thrown away

burn them, the letters
it matters, no

Could words be so sharp
to leave a mark

In all things,
the freshly painted wall
the scent of you
the dissolving suds
the imagined touch

The excruciating ache
the bee sting,
it made me cry
just that once, my pain
your laughter
the rising of a sun

I wish then,
We have never met.


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