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Mar 2016
A break so fine,
                           That dust can't find you.
No glue can keep your insides in.

Scattered and lost, with memories fading,
The last hope for porcelain,
                                                  is lost.

Traveled and weary, bare feet bruised,
I still ask, can I fix you?
                         Carry you home?
My back was built for only you.

I sing to your chorus.
                                     Lonely notes,
Filled with hope, and longing.
Slow, smooth, steady.
Endless,
               Limitless.
It is too late.
                     There is no hope,
                                                    There is no end,
                                                            ­                    "You can't love me."
Secret-Author
Written by
Secret-Author  London
(London)   
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