Midnight has come too soon now it is nearer to the next than this one

Lamentations on letting go do not have place to make themselves static

Uprooted, this tumble weed brushes my eyelids closed as if the Earth would have changed when I open them again

And I wander like a lost tourist through all that has to be done

Pointing and circling

Getting nowhere

I am bound to repeat if I do not erase

I forget and I remember, they pass each other at the gate

How can I move this mountain that shadows me?

When all I see is its Romantic connotations?

I cannot rid myself of all I have learnt just to see afresh

Then it would hit again

I am getting used to bad news

But lamentations on letting go do not belong, are not permitted in my head

The sun forces my eyelids down

As if the tears drying up means the reason to cry subsides

Midnight has come too soon

But I refuse to turn out this light

 

 

 

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