I Held It

Some things stay, they linger and burrow into our lives, but they aren’t eternal, no matter how hard they try to be.

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I held it in my hands,
But it fell when she found me,
And it broke when I loved her.

I tried to collect the pieces,
But it crumbled in her shadow,
And its dust blew when she spoke.

I felt no loss in its void,
But warmth in its absence,
And joy as its memory faded.

I thought it gone forever,
But it returned the day she died,
And it bloomed a righteous flower.

I brought it in close to my chest,
But it withered in my palms,
And where she had touched me…

…it died.

Sometimes she writes. Sometimes she doesn’t. Either way, she’s not doing what she’s supposed to be doing.

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