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Whatever with this business about time and wounds.
Time is passing and has passed and I miss you.
Haven’t heard from you in ages
Too scared and shy to reach out
I bury the sadness and devastation
Of the possibility that I have found
The one person that I really want to be with
Who may never have been written into my story
The one person who I met by happy accident
Whose chapter has come to its final ending.
And I fear that I may have to live with your absence
A pain in me – to which I will have to build tolerance
Because feelings like this don’t just fade away
They grow in your Heart and Soul, and there they stay.
I miss you – ardently – something fierce
And I am reminded of my lonely
I wonder if you ever think of me
Even once – even a little – a lot?
Maybe?
I pull you forward from my memory
And hear the echo of your voice
Off the confines
Of my mind
And I remember what it felt like
Having you hold me
And it hurts –
It hurts a little bit.
Seriously – fuck this bullshit about time and wounds.
Time is passing and has passed and I still miss you.
I thrive in routine – there is no time for you
There
My very life is occupied from sun up
To day’s end.
I read my books.
I write my poetry.
I dance to my music
Trying to live on, unaware
Of whether you still live
Or if you even care –
At all –
About –

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