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  • Sometimes it's too lonely

    caught sharp on a short breath

    instincts yanked chain living inside man

    that seems to be living without any words

    warning or effort to return

    Memory

    comes on so hard sometimes

    the throat burns

    nose pre tears

    the eyes , well

    they absolutely must look away

    again and forever.

    We were born that way, you see, don't you?

    Not even facing yourself is possible

    in the company of those who lived that score

    let alone being caught out in public.

    For those who have never felt it, then they are blessed

    those who sleep, play, run

    or are born so gay that laughter is the only coin,

    Or anger, fear, honor and so many other types of memory

    but the one I speak of..

    I can't speak of

    not now

    not here not ever.. any more

    no.. it is my cello

    my viola, Bass

    violins ....

    a soft woman's sopranno prayer that pulls

    all strung out in a walled off truth

    never to be found

    the one's too few knew.

    and maybe that's better

    that we go

    make our own terms

    keep our own stride

    resting time

    thoughts we may have searched after

    a courage that waits

    till someone else makes the journey

    The warmth of spring came for me today

    maybe that's what it is.. endings , begginings... the subtle heart

    just in time as change

    as the two ghosts had to finally part

    for at least awhile anyway..

    you see..

    both of them were still living

    both had still to forget,

    hop shore.

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