emma.

does she know

how in my heart

it feels

as if

something’s a spill

something’s a miss

completely obsolete

so discreet

a piece awaits

her softness

and sweetness

I wonder

when and where

I had lost

their trace

along the way

somewhere

near her feet

it must have

evaporated

since even strings

that were tied with care

do break

but

beneath her tears

above her wrists, I held

a tiny prick

which i carelessly shared

and like wind she swept

far away

and

like a page filled

with notes

my yearnings clouded

a rusting sky

with my presence

in her

so incredibly decreased

like vapor on

a summer street

inside her

I could feel

a hurt

like ripples

ruining a still lake

just like…

me.

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