Empty

empty hands reaching

I dreamt I held your hand And a surge of warmth Settled in my bones. It felt like hearth and heart. I took pleasure in it. Safe In your presence. I squeezed your hand To gently express I am for you...with you. Only to awaken with a jolt, holding empty air in my clenched fist.

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Stubborn Habits

Lonelybench

The world has this stubborn habit of continuing after a tragedy. The sun still shambles along the sky chasing the ever elusive moon. Rivers still run their perpetual marathon. The earth still spins as if showing off her pretty dress. They are too preoccupied to notice your trivial tragedies. Indeed, some subjectively are. How dare… Continue reading Stubborn Habits