Poetry Sunday
Perfect cake
That sits upon a plate
Wanting you is folly
Having you is a mistake
Because an empty plate
Leaves only crumbs, an ache
Leaves me alone
Wishing
In your wake
I’m disappearing now
The pain back into me
Disappearing self
To measure perfectly
Run another mile
Chase another dream
Wake up too early
Run on grief and steam
Cha…
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