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Saturday, June 25

Useless and mediocre poem. I'm sorry.

A tug of the heart, a pang in my chest
As I wait,
So long, it seems,
For the sun to rise
For the birds to start singing to me again.

I watch as yellow curtains
Float in the breeze
But I find myself dreaming
Of a place where they were
White and blue.

The soft moon light
Uncovers, with time
All of the secrets that I hid
All of the pain that I shed
And tells me, gently
Not to run.

My chest rattles as I breath,
Hollow spaces that were once filled
With love,
And I must close my eyes
And acknowledge
That I do not know you anymore.


"Try as I might, I cannot explain the complexities of this man's collapse. His death clangs around in my head." -Gregory Spencer, Awakening the Quieter Virtues

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