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you won’t know

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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