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Sep 2014
I’m sad,
And it's okay to admit it now.
My loss is a clever art,
That grows and reveals more of itself over time -
Traipsing, as it does,
Down passageway and alley,
Ever out of reach,
But always in sight.

My hurt is a deep affliction,
And I wail in silence,
And smother my tears in fabric.
"Press on", as they say.
Those with either more strength
Or less patience
(I can never really tell).

As I sleep,
We walk, we play,
As children do,
And we laugh!
And we dance, spinning around
sometimes falling,
Oh but our falls are petty.

For a moment,
that thought of you is a welcome companion,
You and I are ideal once more
My hand clasped to yours,
We chase what light is left.
Together.

Oh,
I wish it could be.
Written by
Josh Highfield
268
 
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