Fleur Jones


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Best Poem of Fleur Jones

My Strangers

The path turns through cities and nighttimes and days
And footsteps echo whenever I’m alone and trying to sleep.
Your faces all untainted and beyond the simple touch
Of skin or features or my sight through the rain and the sun.
How is it that the thorn blossoms into something unbearably
Beautiful, when once I felt it slicing through my bones, thought
This might sever all my chances, one by one, throwing kites
To the wind, strings all and drifting further and further into grey?
Dig deeper into loneliness and the wounds are uncovered
Never quite healed, always open to...

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