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Feb 2014
The ink spills on the page
and I know
these words are hard to come by
Pooling to the rim
my unwritten words lay
unable to keep on the page
unable to say to you
what must be heard
The wind picks up
calling out my fears
I will never know where you are
or If my name
holds any purpose
in your world
or mine
The ink falls over the page
and so do I

I guess this is goodbye.
Written by
SM  Ontario
(Ontario)   
537
   Surrationality and Mary
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