wast sea and all its longing

maybe in other forms of existence I was in its womb,
but that was then,
now I can only meet it as a son who comes home to meet its old mother,
a stray dog coming home to its once-has-been owner,
and I deserve its kick,
I deserve the sad wrinkled look for missing for too long,
I deserve the closed door.

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Breathe - Kushtrim Thaqi

Veronica

I remember the spoken word of the old poet;
family, wife, kids.
yet his voice
from his youth days, 
shakes:
vero-
vero- 
veronica.