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Friday, March 02, 2007

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!"
Eloisa to Abelard -Alexander Pope






he bears memories like a widow with her quilt.
never letting go, only renewing hurt.
like an old scab, tearing open,
bleeding,
wanting only to feel again.
numbness might not be = sadness fading away.

everlasting pain, like tickling one's feet for long.
good cheer became unbearable torturous pain.
watching as another provides what he could not
nor did it matter anymore.

all that was left became undone.
loosened.
hoping for the same warmth that she used to leave.

this very imprint that her soul left on mine.

"perhaps, tonight, i could make-believe."

that happily ever afters happen,
and princesses look beyond faces and carriages.

what is more ironic in this world than waiting.
hoping. waiting. hoping. waiting.

he looked down at those hands.
now barely skin and bones.
wrinkled as his face was
the one in his mind's eye never aged.


10:34 PM

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