The loneliness
sometimes it burns
like consciousness
entering a desert
like raw skin
right before you bleed
like hunger
after a free fall
through emptiness
and a thousand eyes watching
listening for the
unconfessed sin
to shatter
and cover the sky in glass
the last pieces trying
to embrace the unforgiving
sun
it’s not that I’ve coveted
and survived a deep blue
negotiation
it’s that I’ve never
really arrived
it’s not that I came,
but that I left
with a plan to love
but without a plan to rest
my head, somewhere
or am I allowed to talk
about the gray parts
of the choices I’ve made?
my convictions are plucked
cold feathers
and my solitude
has swollen feet
the world parades
its many hearts past me
and all the details are
a clamorous blur
with a foreign accent
and deliberate scars
too beautiful to understand
for one so weary
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