There is a tension to it
Like a twisted piece of fabric being rung
Like the emptiness that I feel
Growing within me.
Moment by moment.
The seconds draw out,
longer and longer
like some impossibly perfect candle-lit vignette
contaminated
in the otherness
that I know that
you have seen
within me.
I’m so empty
it’s hard to put to words.
And it’s an emptiness that is so familiar.
As I stand wondering if our time has passed
As you look in the reflection of yourself
that is me.
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