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August 2016

Always knew you would leave,

but never knew that you'd blame me,

for you, whatever works,

even thought it hurts.

 

I'm not really sorry,

you have no reason to text or call me,

i'm up til 3 writing by my bedside,

trying to convince myself that i'm still alive.

 

For months with you i was deprived of what i know,

it all came flooding back once you chose to go,

all i hold true is this beat in my chest,

may not really know best.

 

It's more then just her chest, it's what she's left behind,

don't become a racehorse for love becoming blind

to everything around you, i'm always on my own,

i'm at my best when i'm alone.

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Starward's picture

Very powerful and poignant

Very powerful and poignant poem.  It hits me particularly at the most basic emotional level, as I lived too many years of my life this way, what T S Eliot called the "waste sad time."  You have expressed it very precisely.


Starward

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