i know how you feel, i do,
i have walked the miles in your shoes.
stillborn smiles stalled behind the lips
paroled in a thousand years but long have sailed the ships.
my 'i love yous' blurred into i, deserts between, and you
my confession sold as terror or ire - neither the truth
the eons stretched on as long as your lashes
my confession aged - i wish as wine, but no - as ashes.
2022.may.20
Friday, May 20, 2022
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