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Mar 2010
If only words were kind,
refined and demure and lacking
in that painful, lonely way.

Glorious loneliness.
Tears of truth: taciturn and tactile.
Wallowing in life

following what's just out of
reach.  Some pious profundity.
Some absolution, validation, vindication, even.

Stupid words.
So full of possibility
and void of promise.
Written by
Rachel Mize
891
 
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