When will I learn that disappointment is a way of life?
Not a personal attack on my own being?
When will allow this weight to be lifted?
Or will I follow along, kicking and screaming?
Will I know what I feel is untrue?
Or am I’m distorting my mind’s misconceptions for pleasure?
Is what I feel real or am I mistaken?
Or have I begun a lifelong pursuit of unattainable endeavor?
To be real is to see, to touch and to feel
If not real than this is only a concoction of deadly obsession
But I know what it is, the touch of your skin…
and to have your soul in my possession…
….to let you in…
You swallowed me whole…then you…
And you left me…
And you left me here…
You left me here…
How could you….just disappear?
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