Sitting all alone on this quiet cold step,
I hear your voice calling out to me.
But as I look down the wooded street-
the canopy of leafy trees covering the harsh rays
from my pail skin – sprit – vulnerable heart – .
It’s not you I see on the dreary cement walk.
Or in the hustling cars that pass by our home.
And I am forced to realize that the cry was,
once again, a memory that stole me from reality.
Suddenly I realize while still safely on the limestone steps -
- That you won’t be returning.
It is at this moment, the busy city street stops.
Everyone once focused on themselves
turn to watch my demise; and it is them-
not I, who all at once fall down to their knees,
holding their heads while letting out a pained cry.
But I will not let the world fall apart –
even if you were my whole eternity.
So I grab the black painted iron railing,
and force myself to stand on unsure legs;
picking up the folded unsure bodies as I do.
Breathing for the first time in years.
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