Poetry, Writing

Bound by this name, this description, this belonging.

Together, our people surround us, silent as softly falling snow,

Marking us.

That which went wrong. Those who are left.

Names in a paper, holding a face thankfully unknown.

The face that haunts my dreams.

I still see you.

Nothing to it really.

Clouds and lead endlessly dancing as each day slips by.

Raw. Elemental. Breathe in, breathe out.

I still smell you.

Be strong.

I tell them I’m trying, but often I’m not.

Because right now, I’m not sure if I want to be what they tell me I am.

Because if I am, than you are not.


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