Questioning drops
Of crumbling quiet
With golden words
Is confined misplacement.
Can you reach across
Sunset-streaked colors
To find my contentment
Without you?
I remember clearly-
Birthday morning overcast,
Sleepy-eyed surprise;
Shines in a dark place.
A year has passed
Since that promise.
Lessons burned,
Goodbye.
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2 comments:
do you think that will be understood, or even read, by who it was written about?
Probably not, no, I would bet against it. And I have two feelings about that question: One, who cares? I wrote it for me. And two, too bad for her. Sadly, she'll never understand what I freely gave her.
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