were it not for words…

Reaching for open space
to encrypt bloodied sycamore
with aloof amore
No truth, no more in broken face

Rain pools in crimson place
Tears grace emaciated embrace with self
Withered, selfish impulse in pulse
covers why I’m leaving

Recovers the feeling
that nothing ends without reaching
for a bleached smile
and a feeling not felt in a while

So, I slip away in a stilted way
as the shoes about my feet
thread their way home

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