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Heart Ache

we are, somedays, just a poor
fabrication of ourselves –
we are less than reflections

i know its there in the way that you
fling your bangs out from your face

you look at me just below the horizon
of my eyes. i see that you see me,
but i know that you don’t –

you are lost in that forest of the Past
on those darker trails up on the Hills.
you are not coming back to me today.

i will wait for this to pass. where will the
wind take me when i’m gone. where
will i ever find rest from this.

a malady, bold and mulish. i am a
sore brick; hardened, fired by kiln.
and you, a mortar of mayhem

affixed to my four corners and
a ballast, albeit painful, a ballast
nevertheless.

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4 thoughts on “Heart Ache

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