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Count to ten and close my eyes
Open up to see the skies
Cry a tear, two or three
Shut away the memories

Discard the thoughts of anguish and pain
All these pictures, all these frames
Burn the clothes, release a scream
Throw away this two way team

Traipse inside and shut the door
Try to cope a little more
Rock away the words you gave
And all the time I tried to save

Approach the bed, redo the sheets
Place carefully the things I keep
Fall asleep another day
Breathe another love away...
They believed
They borrowed
They built...

They lived


They doubted
They dodged
They destroyed...

They lived


They thought
They tried
They tore

They lived

She left...
He waited


She lived...
He waited
I wish you'd hold me even when I push back.
i feel like we're just a happening of circumstances
A poem is like
A piece of wood.
It can be ripped,
Chopped,
Shaped,
Sanded for smoothness.
Sometimes you nail it;
And it can stick like glue.
You can drill a hole
Right through it,
It might bore one
Through you.
It can get under your skin.
But when it's cut
Against the grain,
It should be read again.
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