Polite (In My Dreams) – March 10, 2019

I want to feel it, so badly.

The lightness of life she lived.

I want to breath it in my blood,

and sweat it out my pours.

She lived for that day,

when she awoke it was all that mattered.

The heaviness I carry, is a dull knife.

What’s left is ragged and ugly.

It’s not easily hidden,

But that smile you see, plastered on my face, does it’s job.

Masking the jagged cuts,

Only possible from afar.

The Loneliness that creeps into my covers at night, begs me to let go.

Of the anger, the pity, the remorse, the sadness.

My dreams are blank, nothing, or at best mundane.

She never comes to me, and offers anything profane.

As the sun penetrates my body,

I awake, heavy and unreleased.

Carrying the burden I was gifted.

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