in their own eyes (for Tikoy)

on that precise moment
you open your heart, your stomach
your head,

and then you spread everything
before them
on the breakfast table

the usual broken heart
with perforations
the rotten intestines
the rusty thoughts
some cuts on your hands
wounds of the spirit

and then you challenged
each one' 'Now, judge me! '

and they all left
slowly one by one
toward the door

all of them
i know
has remembered
the old story

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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