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I look at you and become..disgusted
like a mother who looks
upon her
crack baby
ashamed
I take it out on you
when I’m the one to
blame
for the mess
I’ve made
over the years
heaps of past tense
possessions
that defined a person
who no longer lives
here
yet
you remain with the hopes
that she’ll return for you
we’ve waited together
but
deep down
I know she’s moved
on
I become exhausted
every time I try to tell
you
knowing I’ll have to
pick up the pieces..
to make me whole again…
resistance..has become
consistent..
pleading
begging
that i allow the baggage
to stay
one more night
all the while
aspirations
remain buried
under a pile
of
disarray

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