[Originally published 12-17-2015] The winter highway calls me home To where my love lies sleeping; For I have carried secrets long, Far past their time for keeping The many roads I've driven on Are fading, as the light Comes timid with the nascent dawn; I see an end to night How many habits must I …
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i see it as i wander by...
The widsom that I seek seems out of reach.
pretend again for me pretend again for you it didn’t need to end the false can still be true the days before the the lies were known they form a sort of schism; we’re trapped within the colored bars that constitute our prism [it’s all pretend… owen]
Joy is presence, grief is absence — That small much is clear — What was good is never lost, or It was never here. In our being there’s agreeing If we’ll just but feel it — What is good needs take no counsel (Nor need you appeal it) For there is a sudden season: Life …
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I promised her the hills and sky, I promised her all this — But one small word of truth means more Than worlds of Hollowness
Beauty have I loved As life’s great View behind the veil
He loved her like the summer wind, She gave him life and hopefulness, He loved her like a happening That turned a pointless day to bliss He loved her like nobody could, But it took little study To see how she saw him, which was Precisely as Nobody
back here, how strange it is, the heart is sore, as memories like lies, and sons of lies touch cold bare feet onto a frozen floor beneath a ghost they sought to idolize how comforting – the fault was never owned: there need be nothing learned or set away or carried into bright and awkward …
Continue reading "confidence, that thief"