Crying so definitively, doubly missing our
times together.
No way to focus or come back to life, it
was left behind on shores of heaven.
There’s no more fun or joy in the spaces I
have left.
Solace can’t be found in any of the usual
places, and neither can I.
Lost in a desert, crying, watering the cacti
of my mind as they stick and poke me with
their arid arrows of desert dust, like in a
sandstorm of all my tomorrows.
Following the footpaths I have made,
traveling this interior world of my soul.

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