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December 13, 2014 It still pains me to know you have forgotten me It pains me that your heart is so blurred and far It hurts to never get the chance to tell you It hurts that I should even care... We were never to be We never began, and yet... Somehow I feel we have ended The moment my pain breached into expression, The instant my words flowed toward you, The more I let my irrational love for you show I am drenched in fumes when I think of you now I wish I could just be happy for you Yet it seems that you close me off... I feel your slippery escape You must be utterly disgusted--so why do you dangle there? Why do you choose to suspend here? Why do you exist in my heart when all I ever feel, Is your cold emptiness...? Perhaps you think I have no clue who you are, And maybe you are right... But I saw pieces of you that I will never forget You are kind, wonderful. . .so bright. . . And yet. . .I am always in the shade of your light If only you can see how much you mean to me.. If I could only express how wounded I have become Would you even care to know? Would you turn your head, and see? Or would you continue to suspend there, In the corner of my life... You spoke to me... And when you slipped through that double door, When I could no longer see you anymore... When I knew you were still there...a room away So close...and yet so hazy and cold I never was prepared to cry I was never prepared to break with you there... I should have accepted that I should have expected it... We were never to be... You exist--I exist You ended it before I could begin Before i could even... thank you. . . Perhaps you have never forgotten me... Somehow this hope leaves me devastated... My anger powders into soft sadness You never gave me the chance... Just as I never could give you my truth I could choose to use elegant words of expression I could choose to lift my eyes to prettier skies and write Of the glory of God's flawless nature I could write ode upon ode of the gift of life A sonnet of the gentle break of dawn, And the soft cooing of the doves short after flight But today. . .I write as a simple woman A basic, typical heartbroken poet A colossal pain ebbed in each melodramatic line With no uniqueness, Only sadness... To show you...you...how much I care about such an overlooked legacy How much I care... How much I wish you were still there... As I know I can never tell you who to be Or what to see I could never tell you That it hurts so much that you just walked away And that I will always be writing about you That it hurts that these words have even met a page And that it shall never change what you feel I do not know what you feel now, And maybe I never will Though I have cherished bits and pieces of your heart, You merely dangle In a vacant lot of my beautiful world I weep yet still, dear. . . Though my eyes are finally prepared now And it is fine. . .in the end, I will be fine
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