What it was

I think of you

Can’t help myself,

Can’t help you

Were we ever really in this

Together, everything seemed

Too far, too complicated

Did we think ourselves unworthy?

Now broken hearts

Unintended, but there it is

Life never seems remorseful.

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12 thoughts on “What it was

  1. Steve Joy

    The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land
    Plumes of smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky
    A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers
    But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking
    He’s haunted by the memory of a lost paradise
    In his youth or a dream, he can’t be precise
    He’s chained forever to a world that’s departed
    It’s not enough, it’s not enough

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