Loss
It shall never go away.
With every day i choose to stand up
and breathe.
There at the outskirts of every thought that rumbles in my head.
Any emotion permissed to touch
me.
Then too.
Like a dead extremity affixed I shall drag it with me,
Feeling it always with me,
In me.
Slows each moment painfully.
Though it seems
I wish I could just be done.
I want to go home.
Tired.
I shall never let it go.
Copyright © Heather Miller | Year Posted 2009
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