Run

You were at the tip of my fingers

The first thing on my mind

Embedded deep in my heart

And the last to fall behind

 

Now my finger tips are severed

My mind is such a mess

My heart only a muscle

As you vanish ahead of the rest

 

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Pages 2 & 3 – Poetry Journal

Here are pages 2 and 3 of my poetry journal. I have only been able to get this far but I will get back to it as soon as I can relocate my journal which I seem to have misplaced. Whoops! Hopefully more will follow soon…contingent on me finding it. Enjoy!

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Unconditional

You repeatedly said
Unconditional
I do not think
You know what that means
Not tearing down
Not scooping out
Not sacrificing
Beyond repair
That I lost myself
In the mess you made
And I reek of it
Deep inside
You wanted it
The way it was “supposed to be”
You wanted to take out
Everything I was
And fill to the brim
What you preconceived me to be
Did you wonder
Think to create
Something new
Without an instruction manual
Because the result differed
In reality
So you left
Telling someone else
Unconditional
It is not what you think
It means