Crumpled – by Cristina Burlacu

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Your shadow


along the waves of

Egyptian cotton,

your scent


in the silky fabric,

blended into

the smooth grey.

Your heat


in the bowl-shaped depression

where your head

has been,

next to mine,

two craters of

already dull



«À tout jamais…»

your whispered pledge



through the air,

empty like


in the incandescence of the desert,


in the silence around,

mocking me.
cristinaburlaquBorn in Romania and currently living in Canada, Cristina Iuliana Burlacu is an office worker, a wife and the proud mother of a six year old bundle of joy. From time to time, she writes. Her work has appeared in the Rusty Nail magazine, the Vine Leaves Literary Journal, the Vine Leaves Best of 2015 Anthology, on the Every Day Fiction, Wordhaus and Expresso literary sites.

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