If a Picture Was Enough
If a picture was enough
perhaps I wouldn't cry as much.
If the image could just touch your face
perhaps my heart would slow its anxious race.
If the memory would only rise
perhaps it would make me more alive.
The picture though is tattered and worn
fingered by my hands in teary mourns.
This life flows on, while I am alone and lost
having paid the costly price of loss,
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