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 Oct 2021 Jared Botelho
Aishu
Dear self,
In losing you

Days seem blurry
Nights seem scary

Heart grows weary
Eyes turn teary

I lost the merry
I lost the power to write my story
Fear whispers in the night.

"Come,"
the voice of a fallen angel.

A voice like wind chimes
being dragged down a gravel road.
Like a harp
tumbling down a staircase.

Fear slithers from under a tinct veil of doubt,
that dark curtain hung behind my eyes.

Fear is there,
disguised as apathy.
Sopping with facades.
Laden with guilt.

Fear is here and I see it clearly.

I wonder if everyone else does too.
The hunger for being with you
Was greatly penetrating
To see your delicious attractiveness
And wish I could love you essentially
I've laid a place for you
A place at our table
I'm calling to say you're welcome
You're welcome at the table

All around the world people
Set new places for friends and family
A place for friendship
A place for peace
#peace

— The End —