The Phrase That Lingers

The Phrase That Lingers

A phrase spoken lingers in the air

Hanging like a photograph on the wall

And I ponder it, much as I would that photograph.

Perhaps for everyone else time has moved on

But for me I’m caught in a sweet syrup

That flows slowly, clinging to the bottle,

It’s last drops hanging, nearly refusing

To let go.  And I’m that syrup

Clinging to that phrase.

Sometimes it might be words of beauty

That I want, perhaps need, to bask in.

Other times it cuts into me like a knife

And I won’t let go of the pain

Aching into my very core.

That last one is the phrase, like the photograph,

That I shouldn’t ever bother to even dust.

I should take it off the wall and

Throw it away.

But instead I wrap myself around it

Clinging to the pain it causes

Not even trying to drip off of it

Just ceaselessly clinging, remembering

That phrase came from

You.

Brian Potter