Aside

I write you poems in my head, knowing you’ll never hear them

My heart – your heart, it rhymes in a way that I can’t comprehend

These words were not learned, they were felt and

when you decided you could no longer listen, I cried.

Like a hurricane in July – madness.

I could not eat – my stomach was full of dying butterflies.

Each memory a razor sharp wing tearing apart my being but

I couldn’t stand to let go.

I could not sleep, my dreams brought forth all of my fears and

even when I knew it hurt

my eyes ached to see the sun in your hair.

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