you won’t know

April 20, 2019


you won’t know

by Mela Blust



you won’t know

when the ghost slips out of you

whether with a bang         or just a breath

a step forward               or a leap

when the smoke clears

and you find yourself somewhere unknown


you won’t know when you’ve changed

 just enough to leave behind

pieces of yourself

crumbs to find your way home

when home shifts from comfortable

        to weary

you pack your things

and go quietly into the night

the compass points north but

          everything feels south


you won’t know why the song

    your heart sings

sounds so faded

like the beat of a faraway drum


you’ll follow the river to somewhere new

where you can lie your head on a different pillow;

count your breaths

and start again.







Mela Blust is Florida raised. She has always had an affinity for dark things. Her work has appeared in Anti Heroin Chic, The Rye Whiskey Review, Nixes Mate Review, Califragile, Little Rose Magazine, and The Magnolia Review, and is forthcoming in Rust+Moth, Abstract Magazine, Ink in Thirds, and Third Wednesday Magazine.

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