my arms wide, i
embrace the past;
i can’t move on
until i do —
the cigarettes,
the package stores,
the strikeouts and
the hookups, too
my arms out, i
can reach for more;
forgive my pride,
my loneliness —
and turn my eyes
towards the light,
and maybe sell myself
a little
less
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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