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We grow old in love
fall apart with age
I'm a broken dove
turn the final page.
I’m trying so hard to maintain the flame
But my candle continues to flicker.
I’ve shielded it from the heaviest winds
But the breezes of sameness assail it.
I can’t see my way if it goes out completely
With darkness now poised to swoop in.
ljm
Health problems that cause depression.
Looking for a sign that I’m heard-
Is it a bird outside my window,
A shaft of sunrise in my sky.
Is it a song come out of nowhere
Remembered and sung word for word.
How can you recognize a sign
When you don’t know what you’re looking for.
ljm
Is God listening?
Up in the attic
With my paints
And my rage
I was the canvas
Filled with color

Splats of red
I needed to
How else could I symbolize you?

Blue and orange
And purple and green
All trying you make sense of me

Little hints of yellow
For even then
When I could forget
I could experience momentary joy

I was that canvas
Because yes,
My head is overwhelming
And crazy
And angry
But it can also be beautiful

I was that canvas,
Abstract
And messy
Which some say isn't even art
And some say is wonderful

I was was that canvas

But wait
...
Wasn't I also the painter?
One painting that I really needed to create. It's in my old house in the attic. We are one.


(This note was written by my apology for not being able to be on here supporting your masterpieces yesterday)
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