Going, going.. gone

It’s like the separation of church and state.

The decision between honey and jam,

apples or oranges,

life or death.

How do I live,

with or without you?

I see you slipping away;

through a cracked window pane,

you’re a fuzzy silhouette.

That dusty memory

all scratchy from use

on a shelf in the back,

not any more wanted,

nor anymore use.

My eyes are clear.

I know

how it feels to be me,

and I like it.

I’m me now completely

with no one moving my limbs,

with marionette strings.

My walls crash down

like ocean waves

on the rocks by the seaside,

the wayside,

I see light

on a beautiful face.

One year and eight months. It was

many hours

too

many

that I spent on thoughts of you.

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