There is a hole
A gaping hole that goes deeper than stale riverwater
I’m microscopic
I float within the space
My tears will never fill
If you shall leave
The space will get bigger
I’m left
Barely here
What’s left of me
The words that make our story
The beginning to the end
She’s dead inside
He says and waves his hand across my face
Closes the book
Tomorrow will be a new chapter about an old chapter
And hell wave his hand across my face again
Assuming I’m dead again
In the room
Where she lays dead
She picks up and leaves without notice to land far out of town
She is now free
With caution
Being dead for so long
A little unbalanced
She is fine
Dressed in all white
Delighted to breath in new air
She has curls in her hair wrapped up in good silk
Love has replenished her mighty spirit


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