Together we each
walked the forests
of our interiors...
Collecting armfuls,
chestfulls of
broken bits.
A bundle of sorrow,
a *** of frustrations.
The combustible shrapnel
of having been hopeful.
We carried these to
a secret public place.
Public, for all could
see.
Secret, for few would
know.
There, together,
we huddled in
the elements.
Not rain, trust.
Not cold, connection.
And broke the
broken into
smaller smaller
ever smaller
crumblings.
A fire bundle
of our damages,
our not (and,
truly our never
really...
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