A poem to the heart of the one who gets tired too early
tenderness craves one more kiss before it learns to regret
all of the time we can fit through the eye of a needle
measured out lines that we draw up and let out the door
offering kindness as if it were your last day
suffering will free you enough to suffer some more
sitting here early not wanting to miss the transport
take me away to the place I used to call home
back to a memory
something that no longer exists.
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