I have had the chance to write piece after piece, line after line,
And in the past few weeks, my brain has fallen blank.
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My imagination and the attention to every detail on your faceÂ
Has been frozen in time, crystalized in a liquid glass.
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There is no release or letting go of what I could call my muse,
What a daunting thought.
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So I grasp the ceramic mug that could hold the cure to all my morning problems
Closely to my chest and I breathe in the scent of my favorite elixir.
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But there is no cure for a broken heart… or something like that —
Some cliche statement that you would hear someone’s “wise” mother say.
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But we aren’t broken, just miles apart, and painfully so.
The unanimous yearn for an “us”, even among disapproving friends and family.
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What to even think of it… The most communication we’ve ever had,
And we aren’t even “supposed” to be having communication.
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And that’s just life, or “it is what it is”…
And all along I thought that life was supposed to be what you make of it.
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So what do I make of it?
I am just me;Â
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A girl with my hair tied up in tangles and knots,
Refusing to brush because I know how much it will hurt.
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But the sun still shines, and the clouds still roll,
Regardless, unaware of our tangles and knots.Â
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And the wind still blows,Â
Worsening the tangles and knots.
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And how I would so love to continue to be tethered to you,
The both of us, a tangle and a knot.
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So I won’t cut it, and neither will you.
A bond so strong, that the locks continue to grow.