Next, when


She said nothing. Not even to herself.

There was nothing left to say. All the words were gone.

How many times have you really looked her in the eye?

If you had, you would have known.

But how could you know? She never let on. Not once, if ever. 

She’d kept it hid. So much it never even was.

She would never know what it was to love. The things you know could fill an ocean. 

Where to now? What, next?


Muse of my heart 

Mirror my mind 

Manage my soul 

who keeps me I’ll at ease

out of sorts 

never quite sure

always lacking in some 

small way that 

gnaws 

at my very being 

which has just 

decided to 

appear 

in limited 

engagements

here and there 


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