You hope someone
else has walked in your shadows,
Has picked up
crumbles of your many lives
With lovely,
trembling hands
Only to fold them,
small as secrets,
Into the pockets
of a rusting heart.
That same
someone has written down the song
Of your soft
grieving
And named it for
your calmly storming eyes.
That someone may
not wait for you forever
While you defy
yourself by searching farther still
Into the depths of hope and great despair(Your shadows feel familiar there)
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