4.29.22

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                                                                                      on the verge


i am missing the poetry

that is you and me.

the push and pull,

that certain ebb and flow;

the ever repeating

cycle of knowing,

but first discovering.

we have fallen into a state of comfort

and knowledge.

nothing of negativity.

but i believe we still 

look onward to that journey

to findings.


the silence is a bit much

to bare right now.

perhaps when we are

once again laying in each other's embrace,

then that silence would be

the beacon of peace for us.

but when the miles and miles

of ever-expanding world between us exists...

i want it to be buried in the cold ground.


at this time,

i have no more

words left to say.


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