“
Tags:
poetry
you don’t really miss it
until it’s gone
and chances to regain are spoiled by pride
and insecurity
so you don’t even try
possibility slips through your fingers
and you wipe away the last tear
wishing you could have given just a little more
but your storage is empty
and it’s anguishing trying
to learn to trust and love again
when all you really want
is the impossible
— Me, lonely
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