To Be Loved
Frostbitten winds cut my cheek, the same place pecked
Gently by your chapped lips.
Paradise is lost in ideas of youthful naivety – hopes, miracles
All simply dreamt before time’s continuity.
Acceptance of a possible worse truth told –
I can’t hold hope in promise, not any longer. . .
Humming softly in broken shards of rueful, indelible pasts,
I welcome the unending abyss – engulfed.
Yet alive.
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