A torrent of words need to pour from my lips
into any listening ear.
Words soaked in longing, soaked in heart’s blood.
My arms are weak
they tremble. They are empty
of your warm, sweet weight.

Into the night, my tears fall
silent on my pillow.
Absorbed without proof
that they were ever there.

The face that I turn to the world
is brave, composed.
Underneath, crumbling ruins,
a person I once was.

How to go on? Not enough books
in the world.
Longing, sorrow, self-destruction.
Burn it down to rebuild it
in some other image.

I know there are no answers.
Only those that I construct myself.
I know there is no going back
to that time when
you were warm in my arms
and safe.
As safe as anyone can be.

Burn it down. Burn it all down.
Only to build it again
in some other way with some other meaning
that I cannot yet see.


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