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Mar 2020
I yearned for a touch
To reach through into
The deep of me.
Yearned for a voice
that'd create in me
a trembling
Soul filled with
anticipation.
And this you gave,
But oh how quickly
You take it away.
Barely a lingering taste
On my lips.
You've slipped away
In silence
Like water droplets
Slipping from the petals
Of an unfurling flower;
Condensation that dewed
Upon the vibrant blooms
In the soft night,
Only to dissipate in dawn's light.
Leaving me only
with questions,
pondering the now dying
Fire, soft embers,
within your
eyes.
A poem about a short romance that died as quickly as it was borne.
Tafuta Atarashī
Written by
Tafuta Atarashī  28/M/Chicago
(28/M/Chicago)   
114
     Healer, Elizabeth J and ---
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