REGRETS

Shards of what could have been

Land on the capsule of what is

And sting as they pluck at the eyebrows of the soul

Life reduced to 1-d

No pen to paper

Piles of unorganized chaos

Suspended between purgation and commitment

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I want to sit at a table with you Eating toast and jam Sun cracking through the veil of fireplace smoke

Are we floating or scuffling? Shuffling or floating? Wanting to feel a form in the darkness And terrified of feeling something

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