Though I know.
It's over already,
but still, I wait for my decision
though it's written in the unsaid,
a language of avoidance
and realisation
that change isn't forthcoming,
stuck in staccato,
I'm weary, shrink to nothing,
grey and flat lining
slipping into despair,
then, dream fantasies of a future,
without you.
Poetry by shells
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Written on 2016-04-11 at 18:31
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one trick pony |
Lawrence Beck |
Elle |
Texts |
by shellsLatest textsFall and RiseSilent Self Unsettled Taking Control Summer's Fading |
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