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 Aug 2014 James
Josiah Wilson
Poets seem sad to me
Because we feel more
And we hold on tight
And when we hurt, we write

Our tears fall on paper
In the form of words
Thoughts in scribbled ink
As our hearts begin to sink

Other people's pain fades
And drifts away with time
But a poet's hurt will stay
There on the tear stained page
Not my best, but after reading a lot of poems on here, I wanted to write this.

Also desiderium: an ardent desire or longing; especially :  a feeling of loss or grief for something lost (From Merriam-Webster)
I sat all night
My mind rambles on
133 thoughts
Harmlessly invaded
My isolation
Until the night is over
I imagine you
Creep through my senses
Not a single night
Where you don't pass
My possession
Restricted----
Until you came along
Only to find comfort
To live in me....

— The End —