Unrequited

Stumbling, stuttering,
falling, to shatter
those dreams and desires
that haunt my half woken hours
of that auspicious night
when I touched you,
a brush, a glance,
no matter for,
turned outside in,
the sky became
the path I trod and tread,
painful reminder
of all those days,
in bed, alone,
unrequited.
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Published on October 30, 2017 05:59
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Postcard from a Pigeon

Dermott Hayes
Musings and writings of Dermott Hayes, Author
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