A loved one hangs long,
to dear life.
And you are torn between.
Until.
The memories pain,
And you sanctify them
Eulogise them
Celebrate in their falseness.
A falseness you know and feel
And yet you want more of them.
Can miracles sometimes be bad?
When a person we cannot exist without,
passes on?
And we exist solely, lonely,
miraculously
Life goes on.
End.
A response to a poem by Conor.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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