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 Feb 2015 Maria
Javi Claycombe
the minutes turning hours
the hours passing days
the endlessness of days
waiting for time to end

the heartache of loneliness
upon the misery of time
carried out with every day
with boredom ridding my timeline

feeling the weight of eternity
pressing against the chest
endlessly presents
it doesn't regress

though weak and diminished
the spirit of hope lives on
for faith is my answer to time and love

with my minutes passing hours and my hours passing days
I live knowing that every day is a good day
just some are better than most days
 Feb 2015 Maria
Javi Claycombe
If I grew my hair to my knees and dyed it to the color of the wind, would you still recognize him

If I pealed away at my fingers to make them look thinner, would you still be able to remember them

If I never walked into the sun again and took an eraser to my skin, just to be a bit lighter, would that be enough to disguise him

What if I even change the way I speak, a whole octive higher or perhaps lower, would his voice still be familiar

What if I make myself shorter or taller, with reconstructive surgery, do you think then you can be fooled by him

But what if

I break my nose and reshape it
   Take my lips and deflate them
      Gouge my eyes to replace them

Would that make a difference

What if I told you that you never had to see him again, that he can be different, he can be better, he could be anything

Would you believe in him





No...
But thanks for trying
When she just does not want to try anymore.
You'll always be great she says, but you made a mistake.

— The End —